


Once Upon a Time

by rhye



Series: Once Upon a Time [1]
Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-29
Updated: 2011-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:05:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 28
Words: 23,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhye/pseuds/rhye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A happy-ending ranch AU composed of short chapters based on fairy tale themes. As in fairy tales, some plot elements may be far-fetched, the angst runs deep, there is fluff, and they all lived happily ever after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Beastly Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> What follows is a Brokeback Mountain fanfiction based on “fairy tale” themes. It contains mature themes such as male/male sex, graphic violence, and rape. The characters belong to Annie Proulx and the movie makers who brought them to life. No money is being made from of this.
> 
> This is, for all its angst, a happy-ending story. Because it is based on fairy tales, some plot elements are far-fetched. The angst factor is amplified, but so is the fluff. Each chapter may be from a different character's point of view, and in a different style.
> 
> A very special thanks to my beta, Jenny/jennydcf. She put an unprecedented amount of work into this, and on a daily basis.
> 
> Many chapters of this were previously posted at the livejournal community 31_days. The themes come from there as well.
> 
> Also, sorry about formatting weirdness. This was originally in PDF form and it's not so easy to just yank the text from the PDF.

_"You got a better idea?"_

 _"I, did once."_

When the crazy ordeal, the most terrifying day of Ennis's life, was at its close, he was left alone on a sunken cot, cotton and worn wool pulled chin-high, more exhausted than he'd felt in forever and a day. Still, sleep couldn't find its way into his drafty trailer to comfort him. When he closed his eyes, the  
scene played over and over again with a defiant mind of its own, like Jack was still living up there and the fight was still going on. Ennis clamped his lids down hard and tried to concentrate on other things, on price per pound of stock, but whenever he started to ease his guard, slip into sleep, Jack's words hammered through his head.

He bore that burden two nights and one day. Waking moments and unslept nights Ennis spent carrying Jack's words, a lonely Atlas, because Jack was his world-- the world he knew now he'd broken down from Earth to earth, Fire to ashes.

It was at the close of the second dreamless nightmare-night that Ennis found his body was moving against his will. He got up before dawn and drove into town. For a moment he thought he saw a person's shadow watching from the alleyway near the post office, and Ennis nearly turned toward home for good. The shadow, he saw then, was a stray dog, lost and without a place in this world. Still screaming in his head not to do this thing, he found a shaky, clammy hand grappling with the black pay phone. The quarters seemed large and clumsy as he sunk them in one at a time. His mouth as filled with cotton-balls. His eyelids felt clammy, too, and he squinted against the rising of the sun.

"Hello?" A woman answered him from way out in Lightning Flat.

"Uh, is Jack there?"

"Hold on."

A short time later, Ennis heard some mumbles and whispers. Words, while not harsh, were hurried at dawn in the Twist household.

"Hello?" Jack's voice.

Ennis couldn't find his, though. It was like Jack had stolen his very breath away. He squinted back into the sun and tried to make a sound, any sound, come from his throat. He managed a little drowning noise. It was all that was needed.

"Ennisss?" The hiss was alarming.

"I... uh, I..."

"Why are you calling me?" Jack didn't exactly sound happy. Ennis'd thought they'd put things in their proper places after the argument, but Jack's voice told him otherwise.

"Listen, Jack... I can't... I mean, I been thinkin' on what you said." And it was the truth. For the past two nights and one day, the scene that had been playing over and over in his brain had been the one at the lakeshore, truths more than he knew how to bear piling high on his conscience. But under it always like a curtain that changed the color of light falling into a room was the night on a lakeshore so many years ago. _"What if you and me had a little ranch together somewhere, little cow-and-calf operation, it'd be some sweet life."_ Ennis had been thinking on what Jack said.

"About August?"

 _Not exactly._ "Any way... any way you could see fit ta find yourself back here so we could talk about this more... uh, in person?" Because what he had to say shouldn't be said over the phone. The sigh on the other end let Ennis know that if he got this wish it must come with a price. "You know I just got here, an' I want to visit with the folks. We don't got anything to say we didn't already say, I reckon."

"Well... Yeah, uh, I do."

"You do?"

"Yup."

"Well, why don't you just tell it to me now? I got a be goin' soon, nice as it is to hear from you." Ennis heard the sarcasm there, and it stung.

"I... I's just..."

"I don't got time for this shit."

"Jack, dammit. I'm tryin' a do something, here."

Jack must have heard something in Ennis's voice, cause his breath turned from hard with anger to hard with something that seemed more like exhaustion. "Listen, friend, I gotta go."

"Jack." Suddenly Ennis was desperate to get his point across, keep Jack on the line, do what was needed. He hadn't wanted to do this over the phone, but Jack wasn't exactly giving him a choice. And something, something deep inside Jack's voice was telling Ennis he might not ever hear that voice again if he let receiver touch base. If he let that little plastic triangle fold back into the phone, Ennis would forever fold into himself as well, and the line would be dead. "Jack, I... Jus' listen, alright?" He paused, hearing breathing to let him know Jack was listening, was still there like Jack was always still  
there, whether he wanted to be or not. "I... I don't have nothin' here. I got a shitty trailer. I haven't seen Junior in almos' a year, Francine in... in longer'n that, anyway. Hell, I don't hardly got a job. Just some old cowboy. 'Could replace me with a kid in ten minutes flat, an' there's talk a sellin' the ranch. I got nothin'."

"Yeah, and? You chose that life, Ennis. I told you you chose it and I meant it. So don't you go an' try ta pin this one--"

"I know it, Jack! Jus'... listen. I always wanted a be my own boss, see, run my own spread. You think you can still get that money from LD?"

Ennis couldn't hear Jack's breath or even Jack's silence over the hammering in his own ears as his vision turned red in the golden dawn, blood rushing everywhere.

"No, reckon not." Jack was a long time answering, and his answers were slow and deliberate. "LD died 'bout two years ago."

"Oh. Sorry to hear 'bout that."

"Well I'm not. But it's not like I'd just hand the money over to you, anyway."

"I wan't askin' you to."

Jack exhaled. "I'm older, got more money now, though. I'd get an awful lot a money out of a divorce settlement. Maybe even enough ta get a proper bank loan for a spread."

"Yeah. That'd be good. For the cows."

"For the cows?"

"I mean." Ennis floundered, not chickening out exactly, but stunned to silence by Jack's less than enthusiastic reply.

"Ennis, for once, I got no clue what you mean. Thinkin' I must a hit my head."

"Think maybe I hit mine."

"Or that."

"So... what do you say?"

Jack sighed to prove it was a long road to that destination, and the words took a full minute forming in Ennis's ear, and another minute forming in his mind. "I say... yes. Fuckit, yes. Shit, I must be crazy."

When Ennis could think clear again, he managed to say, "Well, don't sound so happy now."

Jack laughed, true and ringing and young like the sunlight that was now high enough off the horizon to sparkle and splatter off every dull, unwashed window of the Riverton main drag.

Ennis had no choice but to laugh back, to laugh like he couldn't remember.

Jack answered him again with a chuckle, a whole conversation in smiles and sighs for want of air. When they floated back down to Earth, Jack was already making plans. "Alright. Alright. I gotta... I'm gonna light on out a here, go straight back to Texas. I got some affairs to get in order, I reckon. Might  
take a while, I rightly don't know. How long your divorce take you?"

"Couple months."

"Alright. I'll get in touch with you, though, let you know what's goin'."

"K."

"Ok. Alright."

"Yup."

"And Ennis?"

"Yup?"

"This a mighty fine thing."

Ennis made a noise in his throat.

"For the cows, I mean." Jack chuckled one last time before his voice was gone and Ennis was alone on the desolate street, only not desolate any more, because people were starting a move about. He saw that and hung up, climbed back into his truck without meeting a single eye.

Even all those eyes couldn't subtract from his mood. He whistled and laughed at private jokes the whole way out to work. He'd be late. He didn't care. He didn't care about anything any more. He saw now that all the things he'd spent his whole life caring about had just been fill-ins for the one thing he  
needed. He wasn't sure how he had done it, and when he thought on it his heart got to hammering uncomfortably in his chest, but he'd done it, and there really wasn't another word that fit.

Ennis del Mar had made Jack Twist a proposal.


	2. Three Seeds

Jack sent the first letter after he filed the paper. Ennis wrote back, nothing long, just saying he was waiting.

But three months passed and Jack was up over his head in paperwork, sleeping in the guest bedroom, fighting Lureen for every cent he could take. He knew he was the one dragging it out. He knew he could have cut his losses and run, but this waiting future with Ennis meant more than that, meant everything. Small ranches were folding left and right these days, and there was no way the bank was going to give money to a couple dreamers without a good-sized down-payment. The thought weighed Jack down during the day and kept him up at night. The desire he had to milk every dime he could from   
his own wife had opened a tense, canyon-sized, gaping rift between him and Lureen. When they did encounter each other in the house, she glowered at him, and he backed off in shame. He tried to keep to his room. He'd managed to avoid Randall for months, hoping Randall got the idea. Jack got a momentary thrill from the knowledge that it was a very Ennis-like thing to do. But at night his conscience plagued him with the way Bobby looked at him: wondering why his own father was trying to take from his own mother, wondering why all this was happening. Jack couldn't sleep. He hadn't   
slept well in the months this hell had been going on. Jack's lawyer insisted they could get more than what Lureen was offering, and Jack had told him to go all the way. Lureen would be fine, but Ennis...

Jack knew that this was his last chance. If their ranch folded, he and Ennis might part ways again, Ennis declaring this all a big mistake... His whole heart, his life, the very thing he shared with Ennis was at stake in this, and for that, Jack's conscience could learn to put up and shut up.

Daily, though, he could feel Ennis's hope fading like tail lights into the distance. Jack wondered if he would lose Ennis anyhow. He just needed this, he just needed their nest eggs, their ranch seeds, and he would be on his way, back to Ennis, back to home.

The lawyer, a broad-chested man with thatchy blond ringlets crowning his round head, was named Mike. Jack had laid it all out to him. Jack wasn't sure why, had been sure at the time it was a terrible idea, admitting to bringing his kind onto the holier-than-thou ground of Texas. But Mike understood, and when Jack's courage flagged, Mile smiled a smile that would have shone at the death of thousands it was so frightful, and yet somehow tender and caring. Mike leaned into Jack, and whispered, " _For Ennis._ " And Jack knew he was sold. He'd venture into Eden itself waving a rainbow flag if it could bring this dream to fruition.

And so the struggle puttered on, his need to own and claim the sapling dreams driving him to desperate measures, unholy measures, at the bar of every civil court in the great, flat land of Texas.

Jack sent the second letter only after he'd won-- three hundred thousand dollars!

Ennis never wrote back.


	3. The Wicked Daughter

Dear Diary,

Well here's what happened. I was just so mad-- you know? I guess I should start at the beginning. I got home and Junior was here and she said she went to see Dad to tell him about her engagement. He said maybe he was moving! That's ok and all. I don't see him too much any more because I'm so busy with school and I get the feeling from Mom that she doesn't like Dad much or approve of him or something. I feel sort of guilty when I spend time with him, so I don't. Maybe that's wrong.

Anyway, Junior told me might be Dad was moving, and I was surprised to say the least, since he's lived in Riverton since before I was born anyway. It's hard to think he could be happy someplace else. And I said so to Junior then, something like, "but he'll be all alone then." I know it's stupid because he's already all alone here.

She said then maybe not. He mentioned maybe he would go in on a ranch with a friend. But Junior'd got home before me since I had cheerleading practice, and she'd already talked to Mom. Mom told her things I didn't want to hear about, but Junior wanted to tell me anyway.

And they were really hard to believe, things like that my Dad is gay with this other man! And maybe worse was that no one had told me, like it was an accident I found out just because Junior was so upset and she needed to talk to someone. She took it better than me, though, because I thought then how much of my life maybe has been a lie!? You know?

And I got really mad. Like all the next day at school all I could think about was how angry I was, because I remember being a little girl and my father going fishing with that friend that Junior says Dad might be gay with, and I thought about how he was lying and cheating on Mom, and how I could never forgive him for cheating on mom.

So I skipped cheerleading practice that day, and I went straight home. I borrowed Mom's car, and told her we needed it because the cheerleaders wanted to go out for ice cream after practice, and because I'd always been a good girl and done just what I was asked to do, she let me borrow it. But of course I was being deceitful. Maybe that doesn't make me much better than Dad.

I went over to his place then, and I sat on the steps, just getting madder and madder. I don't think I'd seen him in a year at that point, though it didn't seem that long. I just waited for him. When he finally came home, he seemed sort of pleased to see me, and that only made me more angry. I tried to be civil, but it didn't work. It's hard when you're angry at your parents not to act like it. It's not like with other people where if you lose your temper you might push them away. Because with parents you can't really push them away, I think. I mean, if they're good parents. And I think mine mostly are. Even Monroe.

So I remember losing my temper, and I cried and I ran up to him and even banged on him with my fists, but that didn't do any good because, you see, my Dad is a pretty big guy. I remember him holding me and saying "baby girl" a few times. And that made me more angry because it made me think how he'd probably been cheating on Mom even when I really was just a baby girl, and had he ever loved any of us? I mean, any of us that wasn't _him_? That man Dad's gay for.

So like I said, I got more angry, and then I started saying things. I don't hardly remember the things I said, but I know I didn't even know where I'd learned some of those words, and they hurt to say, and I could see they hurt him to hear, and that's why I kept saying them.

So I eventually ran off, got in the car and came on back home. I guess I cried myself to sleep, and that was a couple hours ago.

And all I can think was how Junior told me to be careful with the information she gave me because surely Dad was embarrassed about it, because he didn't like gay people too much. Or so we thought, or whatever. I don't really care who my daddy loves, as long as he loves me, too.

Now I feel so foolish. I see he probably did love us when I was a baby, or else he would have left with that man maybe. But I just hurt him so badly, there's no way my Daddy will ever love me any more!

I am such a wicked, wicked daughter.


	4. Before the World Was Created

He drank. He drank so long and hard the room burst into sky and the floor itself dropped away, his limbs growing numb along with his mind and heart. Eventually it felt as if there was nothing, nothing at all.

He got up the next morning, numb now with pain. He came home and drank into nothingness.

He repeated again. And again. And again. He had no real concept of how many days passed below the golden splash of whiskey, how many descended into the dark abyss of nothing.

One day set itself apart. That day, a letter came. It was thin and pale, and Jack's, all Jack's. It talked about money, the money Ennis was taking to leave his girls behind, and guilt ate Ennis up. None of it made any sense. Why couldn't Ennis just be normal? Why couldn't he have never met Jack?

Under the haze of whiskey nothingness, Ennis sat back on the cool sheets of his cot, felt that desire thrumming through his veins. If only there had never been a Jack.

Ennis thought back to the times in the before: to the starlit strolls along the prairie with his sweet, quiet girlfriend, to hunting with his brother, to plans, all the plans he'd had. If there'd been no Jack maybe he could have held on to a job, saved the money that he would have needed to have his own ranch.

Ennis stared down at the letter, not remembering grasping it in his drunken stumble. The words were blurry through his glazed eyes, but he'd read the letter enough times to know just exactly what it said.

If there'd been no Jack maybe he could have held on to a job, saved the money that he would have needed to have his own ranch. But what was that compared to this? Because this was a ranch. Or it would be, anyway. Not really his own because it would be Jack's, but the thought bothered him less than he wished it would.

There had been a time before Jack, and it had been happy, peaceful. Everything'd been going in predictable directions then. But it'd only been happy because he hadn't known any differently. He'd been living in darkness-- and ok with it because he hadn't ever seen light.

Ennis's mind stumbled upon the let-there-be-light summer on the Mountain, the moment when his world had been created. He saw that it was good.


	5. The Golden Apple

Ennis didn't even think to answer the letter. The money was a fact, like Jack.

But, as more time passed, he started to worry about the lack of notice about when Jack'd be back. Now that Ennis had made a decision, and Jack'd got the money, Ennis felt impatient, itchy. He didn't want to seem desperate, so he endured the time, let the days form weeks.

Eventually, Junior's wedding came. It was about that time that Ennis came to know his ranch was going to close in six weeks. He was supposed to be cowboying down by the Tetons, but he'd got leave. Maybe there'd been a time when he might have missed his baby girl's wedding for work, but with the ranch folding, and him leaving soon, his chances to see Junior were waning.

He rented a cheap tux, and gave away his big girl at the alter. Francine sang a hymn, but wouldn't meet his eyes.

The reception afterward was in the church basement, long particle-board tables lined up and draped with cotton tablecloths. Monroe catered. Ennis pumped Kurt's arm like a proud father. Francine still wouldn't look his way, but he saw wetness in her eyes sometimes when they passed over him. He found himself standing next to her in the food line, and dropped a casual remark. "You ever seen food like this? Ain't this somethin'."

Was that a smile trying to climb onto her face? "Yeah, it's real nice."

"You gonna have a spread like this when you get married?"

"Dad, I ain't nowhere near getting married." She was full-out smiling now, staring into the potato salad.

He smiled, too. Resting a hand on her shoulder, he pulled her close.

"Daddy, I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Mmm, it's alright. You got a right to be mad at me."

"No I don't. I was so bad."

"Don't worry about it." He gave her one last squeeze and walked back to his own table, while she went off with friends.

At his table, Ennis was joined by the most infuriating company-- first off was the sister of the mayor. She was a friend of Alma's from church, but not too close of a friend. She seemed to know who _he_ was, anyway, because she was all over him like gravy on potatoes, talking about how strong and lonesome he was. He had a mind to tell her off in no uncertain terms, but she was the mayor's sister. Ms. Thelma Nelms was her name.

As if that weren't bad enough, a pretty little thing who also went to church with Alma seemed to think he should be interested in _her_. She was cute in the way Cassie'd been cute, blond curls, pouting pink lips. The laugh lines around her eyes told that she was older than she looked. She introduced herself as Abby Westin.

The only people there he knew enough to talk to, Junior and Francine, were preoccupied with dancing and friends. Ennis spent the time hedging between Abby and Thelma. Abby was gorgeous, and Thelma was saying how she could probably get him a job somewhere around town with her contacts-- she was powerful. The truth, though, he started to realize sandwiched between those two enthusiastic women, was that he was queer. It'd been something he'd been afraid of his whole life, but Francine had screamed at him, called him a faggot, then smiled at him and apologized over potato salad, and maybe Francie was right. Maybe it wasn't the end of the world at all. The sweet smells of these women made him long all the more for Jack's musk.

Somewhere in the middle of dinner, a high pitched shriek assailed all the guests from the direction of the head table. "Daddy!" Junior's enthusiastic outburst was uncharacteristic of her. Ennis started. Junior was coming over now, still prattling. Alma was clenching a card back at the head table. Ennis felt Junior's wedding-gown arms wrap around him.

"A trip to the Big Apple, really, Dad. I know you don't have that kind of money!" A grateful sheen of tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Junior had some stalwart emotional control, but whatever was in the envelope had broken it down. Alma Senior was red and tight-lipped. Monroe looked shocked.

"What is it, lil' darlin?" Ennis tried not to broadcast too much confusion, but he felt mighty lost among the commotion, and hated being the center of attention like this. Everyone in the banquet hall was watching them.

Junior seemed to return to herself. Straightening her gown, she addressed the guests. "My Daddy bought me and Kurt a two-week stay in the Big Apple! With airfare an' everything!" Joyful gasps and a few appreciative claps followed her address.

"Junior. Junior." Guests had turned back to each other, and all over Ennis could hear shared stories about people who'd always dreamed of going to New York City, or about how they had visited there once upon a time.

"Thank you so much, Dad. Really, I know you don't--"

"Junior, I didn't--"

"--have the money. I'm so happy--"

"Junior, listen! I don't have the money. I didn't buy you that."

She stopped, face frozen. "Huh?"

"I didn't buy no such thing! My gift, my gift..." he pointed at the gift table. "I wrote you a check for a hundred dollars. I know it ain't much, but--"

"Well then, who--"

Like a fox on a rabbit, Ms. Nelms cut in. "Oh, I did, dear. I know your father isn't a rich man, and I just wanted you to have something happy to remember him by, now that you're goin' off on yer own."

Junior was staring blank-faced at Ms. Nelms, clearly not sure whether to be grateful or angry, when Abby Westin broke in with a sickly-sweet smile, luring in the unwary with a false sense of maidenhood honesty.

"Don't listen to a word she says, Alma. I don't know why she'd lie, but I got it for you. I just knew how much you would love New York City! It's the seat of American fashion and culture."

Ennis thought he might be sick.

Junior turned big, brown eyes on him, seemingly begging him for an explanation, like he should know. He didn't have nothing to do with it, and leastways he didn't know a single person who had that kind of money--

Ennis felt his breath catch in his throat. "How'd.. how'd you get the envelope?" He said it with more urgency than he meant to, but there it was.

"Huh? Some guy handed it to me, said it was from you--"

Ennis's eyes flew up. He'd only ever been good at two things in his life. One was riding-- he was one of the best horsemen in the county if not the state. The other was recognizing the silhouette of Jack Twist, the thickness of his haunch, the width of his shoulder, the exact slope of his ass, the way he stood.

He was standing back by the bar, swirling a cola, since there was no alcohol in the church. He had his eyes down, and his stance was relaxed.

Ennis spared a glance around. No one was watching him except the three gals here: Ms. Nelms, who had her hand around the town's seat of power; Abby Westin, who could have outshone those models in the fashion magazines she was no doubt a fan of; and Alma Ruth del Mar Johnson, who wanted only one thing, the truth, the sense of all this.

He hadn't ever been able to afford any kind of trip for his little gal, but the truth was something he could deliver.

He put a warm hand on Junior's shoulder, and tried to tell himself it would be alright. After all, if Francie knew, odds were Junior already did, and she hadn't reacted at all just yet. Ennis turned her so she had a view of the little bar. "Was it that man there?"

"Yeah..." she started.

"He's my brother," Ms. Nelms cut in with.

"Oh, come on. Gosh, you have to cut out the lies. He's actually my uncle," said Abby.

"Dad?" Junior was probably already catching on. She was a smart one. "Who is he?"

He clenched her shoulder, bullying past the butt end of his fears, focusing on not letting the words break him as they finally broke free. "That's my Jack. You met him once when you were real little. Come on and meet him again, darlin'. Think ya got a trip to thank him for."

Ennis had thought for a lot of years that there couldn't be anything more foolish than letting people think, or in his case, know, you're queer. He knew what happened to men like that. It wasn't wise.

Yet, no matter how many times he repeated to himself what an unwise thing it was to do, the moment Junior slung her thin arms around Jack's neck, and he wrapped her up in an embrace Ennis knew as gentle and warm, chuckling something into her ear in answer to her gratitude chorus-- that moment, Ennis couldn't remember a time when he'd felt wiser.


	6. The Spell That Cannot Be Broken

The sparkling silver moon cast illusions through the slatted blinds. The evening moved with a rhythm of its own. And though it was Junior's wedding night, the screaming winds told a different story, felt of a different union. Jack gripped the fragile old bed frame, aware of its every noise as though they flew from within him. Some of those noises probably did.

Ennis reached, groping, mind numbly yearning, body needing. Their couplings had a frantic cadence, but this went beyond that: a haunting need from stored up years.

No leaving, no leaving this time. It wasn't spoken, but it was acted, acted on the silver backs of clouds that knew the endless heights, acted in the shimmer of the multi-colored starlight casting its shadow like a blessing from the fathomless depths of space onto their glistening, intertwined forms.

The restless world of nature ceased its movement, inhaled as one, celebrating this moment it had been awaiting. The men had made a vow long ago in the presence of nature, and nature would enforce it.

Jack bent, breath hard. He felt his muscles tense like a pair of wings unfurling to carry them both. In that moment he was caught up in the sky, blinded by white cloud.

Noise ceased to roll through the world, and rolled in him instead. His ears buzzed with sensation and silence.

Out of season, autumn thunder cracked, and nature knew itself consummated.

The spell that drew them back unto each other spring after fall, year after year, the spell that could not be broken, not by time or distance, not by hate or fear, was cast for the very last time. The two who had been two so long finally became one.


	7. The White Lady

She had a stilted voice, as if she weren't used to using it, and a frail countenance. Ruth worried over her

pale, silent frame. She was wearing a white night gown, too thin a cotton to provide any protection

from the shrill autumn coming on, but she was wrapped in a worn hunting flannel over that. Ruth

gathered her in motherly arms and brought her inside at once.

Rushing her straight to bed, Ruth made a broth and brought it to the shivering doe, not more than a

child by her estimation.

"Thank you ma'am." She'd found her voice at last.

"I see you're feelin' better then. That's good. Don't suppose you have a name?"

"Grey, ma'am."

"Oh, that's an unusual name." Ruth pursed her lips and wondered how far she could go, before charging

ahead. "Don't guess you want to tell me how you ended up wanderin' out here. We are not near any

town." Ruth's words were careful, picked over from years of biding her tongue.

"I... I dunno, ma'am. I'm awful tired. Think maybe I could sleep?"

Ruth stood and nodded, walking towards the door. She turned at the entrance, feeling strange at the

sight of a girl in that bed, knowing somehow that wasn't meant to be.

"This is my son Jack's room. He's grown now. You're welcome to use it for as long as you need. Maybe

soon you will remember more and we can find your family."

"Thank you, ma'am." Grey was lacking in life, like maybe she'd never known the meaning of living.

John came in, and Ruth told him about the odd being sleeping in Jack's room. John snorted, made some

snide remark about girls in Jack's bed, not different from what Ruth had thought, except that it was

meant differently, meant to poke fun. Ruth bit her tongue for the millionth time in what felt like as

many years.

The two of them retired under cold blankets.

Only one of them awoke. Ruth didn't shed that many tears, calling into town for the funeral home with

the mechanical certainty of a woman used to the shadowy circle of life and death.

She went to rouse the house-guest, only to find Jack's bed unused, the room as empty as it'd been these

many years. Whether Grey had really been or not, Ruth couldn't say. The broth mug was clean and

replaced in the cupboard. The only other person to have known of her existence was no longer here to

bear witness.

When the funeral director had come and gone, the lonely silence settled like a layer of deep snow,

bathing in purity a life lived in gray. Ruth sat down at the kitchen table with the beige rotary phone and

willed her hand to stop its shaking. Feeling torn between fear and excitement, she set out on whatever

chase was needed to bring her little boy back home at last.


	8. Fool's Reward

"Hello?" Francine sounded small to her own ears.

"Hello? Is Ms. del Mar there?," asked was a matronly voice.

"Speaking." Fran made a face, though they was no one here to see it. She doubted the woman meant

her, but she was the only Ms. del Mar left, what with Junior married. In fact, she guessed she would be

the last del Mar at all if she outlived her Dad. Not likely he was going to have any more kids. Specially

not him and Mr. Twist...

The voice hesitated. "Do you know an Ennis del Mar?"

"That's my father, ma'am."

"Oh, your father! Oh." The hesitation drew out this time.

"He doesn't live here, ma'am. He doesn't have a phone, but I can give him a message."

"Oh. What a sweet girl. Can I ask you... you don't happen to know a Jack Twist do you?"

Fran eyed her bare feet on the carpeted floor, considering. She was either going to have to tell the

woman a lie, or someone else's secret. There was no reason someone should be looking for Mr. Twist

by the name del Mar unless they knew too much. "Excuse me, can I ask who this is?" Her voice shook

a little, being demanding with an old lady.

"Now that's a good girl." The woman seemed to have more confidence now. "That's alright. I'm Jack's

Mama."

iOh. Oh!/i "Oh! Uh. Mrs... Mrs. Twist. Nice to meet you."

"Well you too. You're a smart one. So then, is Jack around there? I called down to his wife. I know he

was planning on a divorce, and it seemed it came through."

"Yeah... Uh, yeah." Fran's finger wound its way around a strand of stray hair. "I guess he an' my dad

were lookin' for a place- some property. They been gone a couple days. They're supposed to come

back today, I think." That's what her dad had said at the wedding when he'd introduced Jack and Fran.

Fran'd blushed in embarrassment, remembering the names she'd called this man with the kind eyes. She

had been surprised to realize Mr. Twist felt like someone she'd always known. "I can take a message if

you like."

"That'd be nice." Mrs. Twist sighed heavily. "Jack's daddy died this week, I'm afraid."

"'m sorry to hear that," Francine muttered with practiced obligation.

"Well, I don't think Jack will be. Neitherways, I am an old lady, and I can't run a ranch on my own. It

belongs to Jack now anyhow. Hope he didn't put no money down someplace."

"Yup."

"Well, I better go. This call is long distance."

"Yup."

"Nice meeting you, Ms. del Mar."

"It's Francine."

"Francine." There was a smile in Mrs. Twist's voice. "You have a good day now."

"Thank you. You too ma'am."

"I'm tellin' you, there wasn't enough cleared land."

"Think I know more'n you 'bout ranch land, an' there was."

"Don't matter. That old house gave me the creeps."

"Shit. Jack, that was the last place for sale in this part of the state!"

"Well, then, we'll just go to a different part a the state." Jack had reached the driver's side and was

pulling open the door with a shrug. He had an innocent look, like this was all just exactly how things

were supposed to go down.

"What 'bout that place down in Summit Hill?"

"I told you, with that stream runnin' so close to the house there'll be drainage problems, and besides,

that barn needs to be rebuilt."

"Well, we could rebuild a barn, Jack." Warning was heaped on Ennis's words.

"We could, but I got hundreds a thousands a dollars that say we don't have to."

"No one said we had ta spend all the money. Don't you wanna buy no stock or nothin'?"

"Yeah, an' without a barn where you plan on housin' 'em?" Jack climbed in, and Ennis followed suit.

They bumped in silence back down the country dirt road until they finally met the interstate. Ennis felt

like his insides were all bounced to pieces, and he sure hoped it was the road and not Jack's sheer

idiocy. "You a fool, you know that? You this picky we'll never get a place. I'm tellin' you, the place on

Summit Hill was it."

"Like hell it was."

"Well. I think you're a damn fool to let that place go, but it's your money." Ennis shut his mouth and

stared out the window at the pavement pointing straight towards Riverton. They'd been gone a couple

days, sleeping in the truck. It hurt even Ennis's old bones, and he imagined Jack's rodeo breaks might

be screaming, but Jack didn't complain. Now Jack was eying Ennis from the driver's seat, looking too

thoughtful. Still, neither sad anything until they were pulling back into the gravel drive of Ennis's

trailer, evening full fallen. They pulled in beside a car Ennis recognized.

Francine was sitting on the step again, a mirror image of that day... Ennis steeled himself for the worst,

and hopped out before Jack put the truck in park, hoping to head off the firestorm.

But there wasn't any firestorm. Francine stood, but there was something fallen about her.

"You alright?," Ennis asked.

She nodded at her feet. "I got a message. For Mr. Twist."

Jack was pulling himself out of the truck. "Francine? That you?"

It was a silly question. Ennis had introduced them not a couple days ago.

"Mr. Twist." She squinted Jack's direction. Ennis turned to see the setting sun like a halo behind Jack

and his truck.

"Call me Jack?"

She ignored him, barreling ahead, still the same Francine Ennis had known before the gulf of time and

age and cheer-leading practice had parted them. "Your mother called."

Jack froze in the act of gathering his things from the truck bed, and turned towards her. "What was that

now?"

"Your mother called," she said again, sounding smaller. "She asked me to give you a message."

"Well now, let's all go in, set around the table and talk," Ennis interrupted, uncomfortable with the

knowledge that Jack's mother must have gone through a lot of trouble and swallowed a lot of pride and

good sense to contact Francine.

Jack nodded, Francine nodded, and in five minute's time, that's exactly where they were. Francine was

moving her hands in her lap, windbreaker pants pulled tightly across her thin hips. The silence was

awkward, no one knowing when to start. Ennis saw himself then as Francine's father, the one who had

to make this okay for her somehow. He reached and tapped her shoulder. "You had a message for

Jack?" He tried to smile to ease the way.

"Uh, yeah, um." She cleared her throat, but didn't look up. "Mr. Twist, you mother called. Wanted me

to tell you your father died this week." She spared a glance across the table.

Jack leaned back, exhaled, looked down at the table. "She seem alright?"

"Um. Yeah. Yeah she seemed alright."

"That's good. Thank you." Jack met Francine's eyes across the Goodwill table, and even Ennis could

tell something was shared in that instant that he wasn't privy to.

"She say anything else?"

"Yeah, uh. She said the ranch was yours now. Hoped you hadn't found another situation or nothing."

Francine looked up at her father now, questions in her eyes.

"No, we didn't find no place," Ennis answered, thinking about Jack's pickiness. He looked down,

working his own hands in his lap.

Jack's laugh rang stiffly. "Yeah. Yeah we did."

Ennis's head shot up.

"We are moving to Lightning Flat." Jack's smile was genuine now, and he winked at Francine, who

answered with a firecracker smile of her own.

"You're a fool," Ennis muttered.

"Yeah. But I'm a fool with a ranch."


	9. The Wandering Wife

She'd seen him at the wedding. She'd known who he was as soon as she'd laid eyes on him, but it was

Junior's day. Besides, she was too mad, too full of emotion, to know how to react. She remembered

feeling her lips tremble, her face flush with anger. She'd gone to the ladies' room and tried not to cry in

the relative privacy of that cell.

He'd given Junior a gift, and not just anything, a trip. It was something Alma could not have afforded in

a million years, even with Monroe's salary. She wanted to snatch it away and rip it up. But it made

Junior so happy.

She'd never told Monroe about Ennis, about Ennis's affair with a man. The truth was, sometimes she

thought maybe she'd done something wrong, or that she was somehow caught up in the filthiness. After

all, hadn't she lain with a man who was sleeping with another man? And she'd known about it. And

Alma would never escape the feeling that maybe she'd done something wrong to cause Ennis to turn to

a man in the first place.

She was a Christian woman, and it wasn't her secret to tell. She'd told Junior, but only because Junior

should know, Junior was old enough to know. Junior was a married woman now. If Ennis was moving

in with that man, it concerned Junior, too. But Junior hadn't been all that surprised. A little maybe, but

not enough.

Junior'd told Francie. Alma'd figured that out soon enough when Francie went over her father's out of

the blue, thinking no one knew where she went. But Junior knew, and there wasn't much Junior didn't tell Alma.

Yet Alma'd held her own. She hadn't cried, except that one time at the wedding, other than in the

privacy of her own bedroom when no one was around except the baby boy. She tried so very hard not

to hate. So very hard.

But in the end she'd failed.

Something was afoot. Junior was on her honeymoon still, down to Jenny Lake, but Francie'd gone to

see Ennis a couple more times. Ennis, who she hadn't spoken to in nearly a year prior. Alma overheard

Francie on the phone a couple times, talking at first with reticence, but with an increasing sense of

excitement. Alma was unable to determine who Francie was talking too, hearing only "ma'am." When

Alma asked straight out, Francie told her it was the cheer-leading coach. Alma'd never heard Francie

address Mrs. Burr as "ma'am" in two years of practices.

But Junior's words, together with seeing that man at Junior's wedding, and then Francie stealing empty

boxes from the basement, all pointed to one conclusion.

"So where's he movin' then?" Alma was standing behind Francie, distractedly burping the baby.

Francie looked down at the folded boxes she was hauling towards the door. "Oh. Um. Do you... you

don't mind if I take them, do you Mom?"

"Yeah, I don't need 'em."

Francie nodded and turned back towards the door.

"Francine Mary del Mar, I asked you a question."

Francie swung back around, her long, dark-blond hair swinging with her head. "Up near the Montana

border."

"iHe/i buy a ranch up there?"

Francie didn't ask who she meant. "No, um. Well, Mr. Twist's father passed on, so he's moving home to

take care of his mother."

"Oh." For a moment Alma really thought that maybe Ennis wasn't going with the man, but Francie

continued.

"Yeah. Dad's ranch is closing in about two weeks, so I guess they're going to move up then."

Alma felt her stomach clench. She felt bile rising, and tears not far behind. She managed a nod. Alma

wasn't sure what prompted the next question: bitterness, fascination, disgust, spite. She'd never

badmouthed Ennis to the girls. Never to anyone. "You like him then? You ok with this?"

Francie looked up, pinning Alma with pity. Alma felt her temper snap.

"Well you go on then! You go to your daddy and his... his iman/i." She didn't cry, didn't yell, but something had changed.

"Mom..."

"You like him?" She still wanted to know. For many years now she'd secretly hoped Jack Twist was a

dirty, nasty man, someone worthy of the hate she felt.

"Yeah, I like him." Francine sounded small. "He's nice. Real sweet. He even asked how you were

doin'."

It was the worst thing Francie could have said. Twenty years of unrequited love for Ennis del Mar,

putting up with his crap, bearing and raising his daughters, while he was off doing dirty things with a

man in the woods- the last hope Alma had for her soul was that her anger was warranted, deserved,

that her hatred was righteous.

But in the end, maybe it was the better man that won.


	10. The Lost Husband

Jack flicked the cigarette. "Your mama ever tell you fairy tales?"

Francine shook her head, her hair carrying the wave to her shoulders. Ennis was at work, but Francine'd

brought over some boxes. They were sitting in front of the broke down old trailer. The evening was

fair. They'd sat in silence for just a little while until Francine had worked up the courage to ask. "Mr.

Twist, how did you end up with my dad?"

Jack had given up on getting her to call him anything that wasn't "Mr. Twist." And, instead of giving

her a well-rehearsed line about sheep, he'd asked her about fairy tales.

"Well, Fran, you mind if I call you Fran?"

She shook her head again.

"Well, my mama once told me this fairy tale. Her mama told it to her. Her mama was Norwegian, so

probably that's where it comes from. You wanna hear it?"

Francine nodded, being a smart girl and knowing it must be relevant.

"Goes somethin' like this. There's this guy, only he looks like a bear-" Jack paused, shook his head,

adding, "now I guess I'm the bear in this story, only I ain't no bear. Maybe don't exercise much as I

should, but..." He eyed her, seeing he'd traveled to destinations where she wasn't following, though that

was probably for the best.

"Anyway, the bear fell in love with a beautiful woman. Now your daddy's the woman. Only he ain't a

woman neither." Shit, now Francine was blushing. "I jus' mean, in the tale, see, he's the woman." She

nodded through her red face, though Jack guessed she was trying not to laugh from the odd shape of

her mouth.

"As I was sayin'. Bear, woman, right? But the woman wasn't too sure 'bout that, him bein' a bear an'

whatnot, so she sort a thought about it for a while, but 'ventually she come around, take up the bear's

offer. At night the bear ain't a bear no more but a man, an'... well. I mean, well, you know what I

mean." She was clearly restraining giggles now. "Anyway, still, the woman didn't know whether the

bear was a man or a troll or what. Her mama convinced her ta look, tryin' a tell her it was a troll. She

did look, found he was the handsomest prince." Jack beamed a smile at his cigarette and took another

drag.

"But anyway, the prince had to go, marry his ugly step-sister or somethin'. So he did that, an' he went

to live in this castle, east a the moon and west a the sun. Beautiful woman spent most of her life tryin' a

find that castle, get the man back from his wife. An' there ya have it."

"Huh?" Fran was smiling, but looked confused.

Jack sighed, smoke puttering out between his lips. He really ought to quit. Throwing the smoke down

on the ground and mashing it with a toe, he continued. "You see, your daddy wasn't too keen on bein'

with neither a troll nor a beautiful prince, so I went down to Texas an' got married. We been seein' each

other ever since, but I guess you know that. Guess your daddy finally found the North Wind."

"The North Wind?"

"Only one who knows how to find the place east a the sun and west a the moon."

"Oh."

"So now?" Jack stared towards the setting sun on the horizon, turned to see the rising full moon sliding

up from the east. "Now I guess it really is like a fairy tale. 'An they lived happily ever after.' You

believe in that?" He watched her with genuine interest.

She smiled at her feet and nodded, waves rippling down her hair again. "I like them Disney movies and

all. Prince Charming, that kind a stuff."

"But you believe people can find that in this life?"

She looked up to meet his eyes, not flinching away at all, and said in a steady voice, "I do now."

Jack nodded, sitting back. He clasped his hands over his beer belly, sitting in a low-slung lawn chair,

not next to Ennis this time, but next to his little girl, pride n' treasure of his life.

I once was lost but now am found, east of the sun and west of the moon.


	11. A Pound of Flesh

Ennis squinted down at the brochure, holding it away from his face a bit to bring it into focus. "Ain't

forty thousand little steep?" He was not buying into this scheme. "That's, like, what, forty a pound?

What pound a bull-flesh you know costs forty dollars?"

"Them thousand pounds right there." Jack pointed out across the fence at the brown longhorn.

"We don't need no kind a fancy bull."

"Need, no. But what the hell else we gonna spend the money on? We got a ranch. We got a herd. We

even got horses, though I guess we could use some that don't remember the sixties."

"Sixties weren't so long ago," Ennis huffed defensively.

"Yeah an' Pokey the old mare agrees with you."

"Then let's spend the money on horses."

"We got three hundred thousand. Sure's hell can buy the bull iand/i whatever horses you've got your eye on. Maybe a few prize-winnin' heifer calves?"

"Yeah, but you think this the bull, hunh?"

"He won first place at the damned state fair! You see what kind a weight improvement we could give

those calves?" Jack tapped the brochure in Ennis's hands. The truth was Ennis hadn't seen, 'cause he

couldn't see that damn small print even at arm's length, but he didn't want to say so.

"Well, we ain't gonna show 'em, just keep a herd."

"Like hell. We're gonna show 'im! An' we're gonna breed 'im, an' we're gonna make a shitload a money

off that bull right there."

Ennis sighed, knowing he'd already lost this battle, and admitting even to himself that, maybe Jack was

right about this one if he won at the state fair. A good bull could make a good cattle ranch, and Jack'd

said his daddy's bulls were shit and about ready for dogfood themselves.

"Forty dollars a pound, Christ," Ennis muttered to himself.

Jack was already writing out the check.


	12. Dreamtime

The time flew by with planning and spending. It amazed Jack how so few belongings could still be so

tiring to pack. He hadn't brought much from Texas- just what fit int he back of his truck, and for the

most part there it remained for a couple weeks. When he'd gotten enough of Ennis to hold him over for

a while, he drove up to see his mother.

He'd helped her put his father's affairs in order, damping down all the time the hazy delirium of joy at

the man's passing. He knew his mama must have seen something in the old bastard, so he left that alone

and tried to be respectful for her sake.

And still, things went quickly with fence mending, barn-painting. His mother was taking everything

well. She was moving into Jack's room, and he and Ennis would move into his parents' bigger room.

The house was full of bad memories for Jack, though, so he'd got his mama's permission to repaint,

refinish, and redecorate, even making a couple of the younger hands put their backs into the labor.

Chuck and Loki painted with enthusiasm, giving the gray master bedroom a blue trim, turning the

kitchen a color called "wild oats," covering the living room walls in orange. Jack bought new light

fixtures and the bright bulbs shone off the glossy walls, bringing the house to bloom like a flower

garden.

But his bedroom stayed unchanged save for some mini blinds. It had been his refuge as a child, and his

refuge it would ever remain.

The house still had problems: the floor creaked, the plumbing was old, the windows had drafts bad

enough that they might as well be open for all the good they did. But Jack had time, all the time in the

world, it seemed, though the sun and moon raced in their courses such was his excitement.

The horse barn turned a florid red, its insides a warm cream the horses clearly appreciated, the whole

thing hosed and scrubbed from top to bottom. The cow barn could wait for another day. Jack and the

hands dug drainage trenched in the paddocks, and rebuilt on of the lean-to for the horses. Jack splurged

on new outdoor waterers that claimed not to freeze in the winter.

When Ennis's arrival grew closer, Jack bought a little Palomino Quarter Horse from a man in Gillette.

Susie had dirty blond hair that shivered when she moved her head, reminding Jack of Fran. She wasn't

anywhere near cheap at nearly twenty grand, but Jack had an eye for cutting prospects and he knew

Susie was worth every penny. Jack tied her in the cow barn for quarantine and spent time out there with

her when he could.

Eventually the day came. Jack wasted it sitting on the front steps going through cigarettes. The smell of

a home-cooked meal hit him whenever his mother opened the door to tell him to get inside, make

himself useful, or that he was going to catch a cold. He waved off her repeated attempts to distract him.

Nothing would. She probably knew that because, before too long, she gave up entirely.

The sun was at that low angle that seems to sink past your eyes and into your brain to give you a

headache with its brightness when the loaded-down pickup truck became visible along the dirt road, a

tidal wave of dust flying up behind it, signaling that what the truck contained was about to break over

everything, swallow up Jack's life and quench every thirst.

Ennis pulled up and hopped out with the stiffness of a man too long on the road.

"Trouble finding the place?," Jack called from the front step, a gleaming white, freshly-painted farm

house as his backdrop.

Ennis turned to him, Ennis's mouth trying to decide whether to contain the smile playing there or let it

out. But Ennis didn't have any control over it in the end as it broke loose to rival the sun in brightness.

"Couldn't live much further from town here."

"Reckon not."

Ennis took off his hat, running a hand through his hair as he rounded the truck. Jack was off the step and walking towards him. Like usual, Jack found his arms reaching out, swinging around the man he

had a need for. Jack felt his embrace returned, felt hot breath that smelled like heaven and honey and

black coffee and cigarettes warm on his cheek, floating past his ear.

Ennis spoke against Jack's cheek, his voice barely more than a raspy rumble, sounding choked up, "Hey

there... guess you're happy to see me, huh?"

Jack pulled away and chuckled, his hands feeling Ennis like they had a mind of their own and a need to

understand the measure and meaning of reality. "Come on, come on in and meet my ma." Jack heard

the barely contained glee in his own voice.

Introductions were short and stammered, but Jack could tell by their flushes and smiles that both Ennis

and his mother were sweet on each other from the get go. Jack's ma had a pot roast ready with

homemade bread. Ennis ate like a man who had never had a filling meal in his life.

Afterward, Jack took Ennis out in the dusky world to show him around the barns and stock. Their new

longhorn gave them a dull gaze over the fence. The hay hanging from the side of his mouth made the

intimidating beast look comical. Jack was especially proud to introduce Ennis to Susie. Ennis took to

the pale filly like a bee to honey. She was young enough that Ennis could finish her like he wanted.

They came in that evening both smelling like hay and fall evening. Both hung their hats and jackets on

the old wooden coat-rack by the door. Jack's ma had made tea and was sitting in the living room

quilting. "Gonna be a cold one tonight," she called without turning from her task.

Jack could tell as well in all his rodeo breaks that cold weather was moving in, but he couldn't be

bothered to care, knowing he had another way to warm his bed tonight. He announced his intentions to

speed that along by going to bed, kissed his mama on the cheek, and he and Ennis took the stairs one-

behind-the-other to the bedroom they were going to share- forever.

Long after the sun and moon, Mrs. Twist and Ennis, and probably even Susie for her last night in the

cow barn, had fallen asleep, Jack lay awake staring at the freshly-painted ceiling. It was the same

ceiling he used to dread seeing as a boy. He'd been dragged into this room and beaten a couple times as

a child, and he remembered painful hours gazing up at the jagged cracks in the plaster. Those times

he'd hoped he'd wake up to find it had all been nightmare.

That boy had finally woken from the dizzying terror to find that overnight his life had warped into a

dream.


	13. Ragnarok

Jack woke with a start, hearing voices, watching an ethereal red glow reflecting off the gray walls of

the bedroom. He knew the color well from too many nights in campgrounds: fire.

Jack cursed, rousing Ennis and scrambling into clothes simultaneously. There must have been a fire

started in the barn or something. Maybe one of the hands had been careless with a cigarette. Probably

the voices were them trying to put it out.

He had no idea what he was in for.

Jack's ma was waking too, and all three of them loped down the dark stairs. It was Jack's ranch now so

he took the responsibility for throwing the door open, welcoming into their home whatever might be on

the outside.

"Well, if it ain't Jack Twist, the faggot himself."

Jack blinked against the glowing light. An ominous crowd of unsightly men bore lanterns and blunt

weapons. The meaning didn't register for a long moment, Jack's blood roaring loudly through his ears.

A tall man with a bulbous head laughed the laugh of a simpleton, and Jack felt his palms sweat. "Ma,

go git in the cellar," he whispered over his shoulder. His mother didn't question but headed for the back

door and storm cellar. Jack could feel as much as see Ennis's jaw working past anger. Jack's own

demon here was fear. They'd lived three weeks of near-bliss, and fear was a real thing to Jack when he

found he had something to lose.

Everything started in slow motion. The man who seemed to be in charge heedlessly threw his lantern at

Jack and Ennis where they stood frozen in the doorway, though he missed by a good two feet and it

smashed against the wood of the house and went out. But it was meant as a call to battle, and it was

taken as one.

In an instant Jack and Ennis were in the crowd of men, fighting for their lives. Men were running back

across the field to set the more distant barn aflame. Others were lighting up the horse barn. Still more,

the house. Jack saw Ennis's eyes fix wildly on the horse barn.

"Go for it!," Jack called. A man was coming at Ennis with a shovel, but Jack threw himself between,

taking the blow on his left arm. Jack staggered at the pain before the shovel connected with his back.

That sent him to his knees, his vision skittering black, before an older instinct grabbed him. Suddenly

he was on the sandy dirt in front of a charging bull and he knew what he had to do if he wanted to live.

Pushing through the pain, Jack was on his feet and limping at a pretty good clip away from the man.

Somewhere in the distance someone was playing the fiddle.

Jack spun to check Ennis's progress, but he needn't have worried. Ennis was beating the crap out of two

men by the barn. He'd be in, and the horses out, in no time.

Jack stopped at the sound of growling and started at the sight of a great big wolf on the end of a leash.

More surprising than the animal was the boy who held on to it. Suddenly Jack's unasked questions were

answered. Loki, the youngest ranch hand, glittered like an angel of death in the growing firelight.

Smoke was clogging the air near the burning house, obscuring the stars and the moon. The boy

laughed, and Jack was reminded of the laughs you hear in horror movies. That was it, this must be

some kind of movie. He needed to get to the house to see if he could stop the ravaging fire, but Loki

and the wolf stood vigilant between him and it, seemingly content to let him watch his dreams burn to

dust.

Jack decided at last he had to do something. Kicked out at the wolf, splinters of pain still stabbing up

his back from where he'd been hit by the shovel. An answering jolt of agony sung up Jack's leg to tell

him something was wrong in that department. Jack, on the ground now, instinctively brought his hands over his face, glimpsing his own bloody calf in the beast's red-glazed muzzle. Desperate to save his leg,

his house, himself, Jack flung his arms and reached around, his fingers landing on the same shovel that

he had met earlier, but now he wielded it.

Jack went berserk, shovel flying to meet muscle and bone. Jack felt a satisfying shudder and the

creature let him go. He scrambled to his feet and made for the house. He hadn't though about what he'd

do when he got there. Probably because he didn't expect to get there.

The fiddle played on.

Stumbling blindly into the thickening cloud of smoke and cinders that smelled of his heart's desires

combusting, Jack tripped over something, saw that it was a couple of roosters out of the coop. The air

was filled with cries of panic, though Jack could hardly understand it, since it'd been him and Ennis

against about ten men. In truth, Jack didn't quite believe he was still alive.

That was his final thought as he lost consciousness, the black vision of smoke around him fading into a

less terrifying black inside of his own head.


	14. Three Aspects of One Whole

Ruth was shaking when she closed the door to the cellar, locking it firmly. The cellar wasn't wired for

electricity, but she'd passed more than one bad thunderstorm down here and her fingers knew the way

to the emergency candles and matches. When the small room glowed in the yellow light, she wished

she'd left it dark. The fire reminded her of the chaos ensuing outside. It was eerily quiet here in the

cellar. She set the candle in a candlestick, and sat to wait.

To wait for the worst, because how could Jack and Ennis possibly stand up against those men that'd

come here? Ruth tried to count them in her head: the leader, the tall one, the fiddler, a boy she'd

recognized as a part-time hand, and four others? Maybe seven?

Restlessness overwhelmed her before a minute had passed. She found herself exploring the nearly bare

shelves. This place was John's; it had been stocked by him and still smelled of him. She wished he was

here now to save his son, to save her new family. Although given the circumstances, he might not have

chosen to.

Her hand rested on a fishing pole, long abandoned. She moved it, and the weight banged against the

cinder block wall. A lure was still hanging on the line. It was ready to go. John'd left it here in case he

decided to fish again like he did when he was younger, and it was still waiting vigilantly for its owner.

That was all it took- that and the raging storm bringing them all to who-knew-what end outside. Ruth's

breath turned shaky and she collapsed back onto the crate that served as a chair. She missed John more

than she could voice, and right now, she felt so vulnerable, so afraid... Nothing like this had happened

while John was here. She knew it wasn't like Jack had meant for this to happen. He was a good child.

But he was a little softer than his daddy, more friendly with others. Jack had probably told that young

hand too much. Ruth felt her heart buckle. She crumpled over to sob into her hands, missing John more

than she had words to say.

Just then a loud clang resounded on the door of the storm cellar. She jumped about a foot into the air,

reaching out to steady herself on the shelves. Someone shouted but she didn't make out the words. The

crate had fallen over, and a more urgent and terrifying sound was issuing from the darkness underneath

it. Even in the dim light Ruth could see the rattler clear as day.

The snake struck out and a sharp pain screamed up from her bare ankle. She felt herself tumbling

backwards, limbs flailing for purchase on something. She gripped the shelves but felt them give. The

candle fell to the floor and went out, drowned in its own wax. Something else fell, and Ruth went down

with it, the darkness of the cellar becoming darkness behind her eyes as she lost consciousness.

Ruth awoke in a quiet room. There was talking outside. The sheets were cold. Everything was cold.

She was under a small mountain of blankets, but the room, at least, was familiar. It was Jack's room-

her room now. She struggled to sit up and found it easier than she'd expected. She called out in a hoarse

voice to the hallway. A voice she recognized as the town physician, Dr. Thompson, said something to

someone and came into the room to explain what had happened to her and her family.

Ennis woke, but the first images that flashed into in his mind were the last things he had seen, and he

wished he could drop back to unconsciousness. Dale must have noticed that he'd awakened, though,

because he tapped Ennis on the shoulder and passed him a glass of water. The most senior of the two

full-time hands sat on the arm of the couch nearest Ennis's feet.

"You doin' alright, Mr. del Mar?"

"Sure," Ennis croaked. "Wha happened?"

"Well, I guess you must have passed out from the smoke. Doc says so anyway. Think you got a broken

nose as well."

Ennis thought he felt alright for the most part. "Susie?" Ennis remembered... he didn't want to

remember.

"No way, sorry, sir." Dale frowned and shook his head.

"Shit... Christ! Jack!" Ennis was ashamed that he'd asked about his horse first. "Mrs. Twist?" Ennis was

even more ashamed that he'd asked about Jack second.

Dale was shaking his head again, but laughing this time. "Mrs. Twist got a concussion. Took a spill in

the cellar. Seems she was bitten by a rattler, too, but it was a dry bite."

Ennis nodded. That was good. Most rattler bites were dry, but there was always the possibility of ones

that weren't. "Jack?"

Deeper lines etched themselves into Dale's face. "Don't know I guess. Doc's upstairs lookin' at him with

Gerry." Gerry was the other full-time hand.

"What? Where'd you guys come from?" Ennis remembered clear as day seeing the ten or so men

booking across the field from the western bunkhouse. Some had helped him contain the fire in the

stables, but not before... Well, he'd need a new horse, anyway. The others had joined the fight by the main house, with water. The house must have survived because he was in it right now, though he did

notice an unusual chill. He remembered grabbing one of the men, telling him that Mrs. Twist was in the

storm cellar.

"We were... well," Dale was stalling and blushing in embarrassment.

"Whut?" Ennis didn't have any patience to lose at this point.

"We were gambling back there." Dale ducked his head. "Sometimes we have crap shoots, or a little

hand of poker. Hands from all over the area come. Mr. Twist didn't know. He would have fired our

asses, probably got the other men fired, too."

"Well I ain't gonna fire nobody."

"You can't, it ain't your ranch."

The reminder hit Ennis hard, and he struggled off the couch. He'd twisted his back or something in the

fray and it hurt like the dickens today.

Dale didn't budge as Ennis left the room. Ennis paused when he saw Chuck, the older of the two part-

time, high-school hands, sitting at the kitchen table staring down at the wood like he'd seen a ghost.

Ennis didn't spare him a second glance, though, his attention suddenly arrested by the source of the

cold. Half of the kitchen was missing in a slumping mess of black cinders. Ennis wanted to worry about

the soundness of the house, but there wasn't room for more worry in his head right now. He dragged his

sore ass up the stairs.

Dr. Thompson was actually in Jack's room, where Mrs. Twist was awake and they were speaking in

low tones. Gerry was standing in the hallway downcast, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Ennis

was feeling dizzy already from his climb up the stairs. The doc turned, and must have seen that. He said

something to Mrs. Twist and then rushed over.

"Mr. del Mar! You should really be lying down. Smoke inhalation can be serious business, and you-"

"Jack," Ennis wheezed from a tightening chest.

Doc Thompson sighed and brushed past Ennis, pushing the door open on the master bedroom. Ennis

followed him in, eyes trained on Jack.

Jack was resting under a pile of blankets like Mrs. Twist had been. He was unconscious.

"He... he goin' be alright?" Ennis heard more emotion in his voice than he wished he heard.

"Jack?" The doc turned to him. "Oh yeah, he'll be fine. He does have a couple more serious injuries

than you and Mrs. Twist, though. Mainly, he was bit on the leg by a dog it looks like. Fractured his leg,

but we can't cast it 'til the wounds heal. I set it though, and we have to be careful that dog didn't give

him anything- no infections. He also has a cracked rib, but it should heal without too much fuss.

Speaking of which, you have a broken nose, so you'll want to ice that."

"Well... if he ain't that bad off, why's he asleep?"

Doc Thompson turned as if seeing him for the first time. "Maybe he's tired?"

Ennis stared at the doctor, wondering if it was a joke, but the doc didn't look anything but sincere.

"Alright," the doc said in answer to Ennis's taut silence. "I'm going to go finish my chat with Mrs.

Twist." The doc clapped Ennis on the shoulder and Ennis subconsciously moved away from the touch.

Doc Thompson left through the door, and, to Ennis's chagrin, closed it behind himself.

Even mad at the doc's insinuations, no matter how dead-on, Ennis felt a sagging relief at being alone in

a room with a Jack who was alright. Ennis was tired and dizzy, and he sank onto the edge of the bed,

resting his chilly cheek in a chillier hand. Everything had gone so wrong so quickly. He hadn't quite

recovered from the shock of it. A lot of bad had happened. Ennis had already lost one family. He

couldn't stand the thought of losing the other.

The first thing Jack saw when he opened his eyes was Ennis gazing down at him, chocolate eyes full of

barely-restrained fears and reliefs. Jack groaned. His head was throbbing. His chest was throbbing. His

leg was throbbing worst of all. It hurt when he breathed. It hurt when he didn't breathe.

"How's ma?," he managed to ask past the pain.

"Yeah, she'll be alright. Concussion or somethin'."

Jack started to sit up but gasped and settled back down. "And you?"

Ennis nodded. "Got too much smoke in my lungs, guess. I'll be alright."

"I guess the house is still standing." Jack looked around the room.

"Most of it."

"The hell's that mean?"

"Just hope you weren't too attached to the kitchen."

"That why it's so fucking cold in here?" Jack could see his breath if he looked hard enough.

"Yup."

"Ain't you cold?"

"Reckon so." Ennis shrugged.

"What happened?" It was almost a hypothetical question, as if meant for God himself, but Ennis

answered.

"Some boys from down in town heard from Loki I guess, came down here. Our hands were doin' some

illegal gambling with other boys from 'round this way. Guess they saw the commotion.""Oh." At least that explained why they were still alive, and probably why the black smoky night had

seemed so very full of people who were not trying to kill him.

"You get to the horses alright?" The last time Jack remembered seeing Ennis had been down by the

horse barn.

Ennis hung his head. "Some of 'em."

Jack didn't ask which. He knew which one hadn't made it by the slump of Ennis's shoulders. Jack and

Ennis both lived this life. They knew that you lose a good animal sometimes. Susie had been more than

a good animal, though, because she'd represented to them all the promise and future of their venture.

They had to make good with a horse like Susie. Well, now they'd have to make good without her.

Jack was still aching for sleep and for release from his pain. "So what's wrong with me?" Jack was

afraid to ask, knowing with a small part of his mind that he might have to lose his leg.

"Broken leg, broken rib, dog bite. Doc says you'll be fine."

Jack released a breath at that. Fine. That sounded promising. "I feel like shit."

"Yeah, well."

"It was a wolf."

"What's that?"

"Loki. He came with a wolf."

"Whut?"

"Got me." Jack squeezed his eyes closed, feeling sleep jostling for its place in his brain. Maybe the

doctor had given him some painkillers. Something was making consciousness difficult to hold onto.

"Well, guess we better use some of that money to patch up the house." Ennis sounded melancholy, and

who could blame him?

"Yup."

"I'll let you sleep." It was a defeated murmur.

"Huh." Jack felt the pillow, cool against his face, and held onto consciousness just long enough to

thank a God he didn't believe in for the deliverance of his family.


	15. Candles for the Dead

The day was wasted. Ennis tried to sleep on the couch, but the cold touched him too deeply and they'd

used every blanket on Jack and Mrs. Twist. Besides, the banging was too close, and before long he

joined a Chuck, Dale, and Gerry hammering plywood over the gaping kitchen walls. Chuck left before

dinner, as he had the day before, alone this time. Gerry and Dale headed back down to the bunkhouse.

They were friendly guys, but still just employees. They worked hard for their wages, but that's the only

reason they worked.

Ennis opened some cans of soup and took bowls upstairs. Mrs. Twist was lying awake, just watching

the room, and thanked him. He offered to bring up her quilting. She took him up on that, but it left him

wondering why she hadn't asked before.

Jack was sound asleep, though, so he ate Jack's soup himself. Afterward, Ennis found his warm place to

sleep, though he kept well to his side of the bed, afraid of messing with Jack's leg by accident.

The next day wasn't too different, except Ennis and Dale worked out in the stables, righting them for

the horses that had made it. Gerry and Chuck went back to the daily chores of tending stock. Ennis and

Dale worked in silence.

But when Ennis went inside for lunch, silence was the last thing he encountered. Jack was upstairs

bitching at Ennis at the top of his lungs.

"Ennis? Ennis, that you?"

"Yup."

"Get on up here! Could you bring up some water? Maybe some food? I'm dyin' a starvation up here."

Seemed Jack's lungs were a bit healthier than his own because Ennis didn't think he could have

caterwalled like that. Ennis finally relented, climbing upstairs with water and bread.

"What the hell, is this prison? We don't got no warm food?"

"Well I'm supposed to be out helpin' Dale, not takin' care of you."

"Well excuse me for bein' hurt. Come on, help me up, I gotta piss somethin' awful."

Ennis let Jack drape an arm around him. He was blushing a fierce red as he walked Jack all the way to

the bathroom that was in view of the Mrs. Twist's room, and shut the door behind the two of them. Jack

was clearly in pain and having trouble keeping his balance, so Ennis held on to him while Jack peed,

zipped, rinsed water off his hands, and smiled at Ennis in the mirror. Ennis blushed even harder before

breaking eye contact. Jack was so warm leaning against him. It would be easy for Ennis to be lost here.

But he couldn't. Everything here was going to be alright. He didn't know how he could know it, but

nothing worse could happen than had already, and those men'd been arrested after they'd all been laid

out unconscious by the Twist ranch's very own crap-shooting army. But nothing could be alright until on more thing was done.

They didn't do it until after dark, because the ranch work took all day. But after the sun had slipped

over the western horizon and all that remained of its glow was what reflected off the evening star

hanging low to the southwest, Ennis, Dale, Gerry, and a couple hands from the next ranch over

gathered behind the horse barn.

They built a fire up, its light glinting with a familiar orange glow, bringing back bad memories. In a

way they were reclaiming the flame for themselves, burning away their own fears from the night

before. Nothing would burn tonight that wasn't meant to.

One by one they hoisted the dead animals into the fire: a couple roosters, a rattlesnake, a dead wolf that

they'd found down by the road, the mule, a sheep. The fire blazed higher. It was about time for the last

carcass to join the pyre, and everyone seemed to be waiting for Ennis. He stepped forward to grip the

edges of the cloth already wrapping the partly-burnt horse, but, before he could move it, his attention

was arrested by a familiar silhouette against the flame. "What you doin'? You need to be-"

"Shove it. She was my damned horse."

"Jack, you-" But Ennis could see Jack was ignoring him as he limp-hopped over to the blanket,

groaning as he bent over to grab the sheet. Gerry and a man named Steve from the Foster's ranch

rushed forward to help, and the four of them dragged the young filly over to the now-towering flame

that smelled already of burning flesh and fat.

They stood back to watch as the flame leaped up, warming their fronts to mid-summer while their

backs chilled. Jack leaned against Ennis, and though Ennis wasn't comfortable with it, he didn't have

the heart to move away from a man with an injured leg. Ennis noticed Dale watching them, but whether

Dale was uncomfortable with it or not, Ennis knew Dale could be trusted after last night. It was the

blessing of trial by fire.

When the flames had slackened to simmering embers, ashes to ashes and dust to dust, they doused it

with a trough and parted for the night. But the evening star burned on- a candle for the dead.


	16. The Man Who Walks Like a Beast

"Dammit." Jack cursed as his stocking foot slipped on the third stair. He'd caught himself on the

banister, but it'd been a close call- closest one yet. He was managing, doing for him and his ma while

Ennis was out doing for the ranch. His ma'd got up a couple times, but he preferred to keep her in bed.

No way he could carry food upstairs though.

Jack looked like an idiot. He was getting around the only way he knew how. The wolf-bite was healing

well, no sign of infection beyond what the pills the doc gave him could handle. The doc was coming

out soon to give him a cast and some crutches but until then he was supposed to stay in bed. Like hell.

So in the meantime, Jack hopped on one foot. He gripped walls and furniture and tried not to slip.

There was still pain in his chest. It was his broken rib, he guessed, but it didn't hurt too much as long as

he moved carefully, didn't try to drag horses around. And Jack was going crazy just laying in bed.

He'd got Chuck to cut him some boards, bring a hammer and nails, and Jack was working on toe-

nailing a new frame for the corner of the kitchen. It made him feel useful. It made him feel like

himself- even if he had to do standing on one very tired foot.

He was balanced with one arm against a kitchen chair, the other trying to hold a measuring tape against

one side of the wall, when Ennis came in for the evening.

"What the hell you doin' up?"

"Just measurin' the kitchen."

"You supposed to be in bed."

"Well I'm goin' crazy up there so I'm not."

"Get on back, then."

"Like hell. Come over here an' stretch this tape out for me."

Ennis mumbled then walked over. He held the loose end of the measuring tape against one part of the

corner.

"No, not there, measure to where the stud comes in from the ceiling."

"Why? You need to build the frame to here."

"Just do it."

"From where now?"

Jack reached his hand up, balancing on only one foot now, to point Ennis in the right direction. He

pointed a little too hard, though, because he tipped and slid awkwardly down the half-wall onto the

floor, cursing and catching himself on his hands.

Ennis cursed as well, bending down beside Jack, Ennis's shirt untucking itself to show a sliver of thin

belly. The fall had hurt less than Jack had expected. Finally having paid the price for his undignified

one-legging, Jack started to chuckle.

Ennis looked at him like Jack was mad for a moment before little laugh lines formed around his eyes,

his mouth curving up under his swollen red nose. Since the fire it seemed like neither of them had so

much as smiled.

"What the hell's so funny?," Ennis asked.

"Dunno. What're you laughin' at? I'm hurt, here," Jack gasped out between chuckles.

"Jus' look at you, crawling 'round the kitchen floor like a animal."

"Fuck you." but Jack was laughing harder still. He picked up the measuring tape and threw it at Ennis, rolling onto his back on the floor. "Laughin' at a hurt man."

"Don't see no man here." They both guffawed like it was hilarious, but they needed the release,

permission to play and act like idiots.

"Well I can show you animal-" Jack started, but before he knew what was happening, Ennis was

leaning over him breathing close to Jack's mouth, looking fiercely into his eyes. It'd been almost a week

since they'd so much as looked at each other with intimacy.

In the moment Ennis attacked Jack's mouth ferociously, helping to hold Jack up against him while

pushing him down onto the cold floor at he same time, Jack wondered who it was that was really the

animal here.


	17. Spirits in the Water

From the outside, everything was going well. They finished the kitchen, bought a horse, and had plenty

of time to work on the stock. Ennis enjoyed the days. Jack trusted him completely and he had the final

say in everything related to the ranch for the first time in his life.

But the night he didn't enjoy one bit. Seeing his worst imaginings realized had put the fear of God in

him. It was only a matter of time before it happened again. Ennis didn't know how to tell Jack that he

was a grown man who jumped at the sound of the wind, who held his breath to ask himself "was that a

voice?", who stared at the ceiling listening until his eyes hurt and he couldn't hear over the thundering

of his heart. At night Ennis felt like he was falling apart, and he was all alone because there no way

he'd tell anyone about this weakness.

One night the wind was flying out of the North, bringing winter with it, and Ennis thought he was

about to lose his mind. He swung his legs out of bed. They hit the cold hardwood with a shock. He

went to sit on the couch to wait out the noise.

The couch was nice because it was a different place from the bed where Ennis spent every night

paralyzed with fear. But that wasn't enough to help him sleep.

Ennis went to the kitchen and found the whiskey under the cabinet. He drank a enough to sleep like the

dead for the first time in since the fateful night.

He woke before Jack, as usual. Still shaking off dizziness from the whiskey, Ennis went straight to

work.

The next night he hardly waited until Jack was asleep before he removed himself to the couch to drink

and sleep where the spirits calmed him and rest could be had.

Jack didn't know, or so Ennis thought. He continued this act night after night, refusing to believe that

Jack could know anything was amiss. In Ennis's heart he knew he blamed Jack for what had happened,

for thinking that two men who lived like they did could be ok. He should have slept away from Jack

since the beginning. Ennis knew but refused to acknowledge that it had been over a month since he'd

even touched Jack. He pretended in is own mind that he didn't even care- he was here for the ranch.

Jack couldn't meet Ennis's eyes without unspoken accusations. Ennis's temper was always on edge, and

most days he could only think about Jack dropping off to sleep so he could find the soothing liquid

spirit that was the only peace his soul knew any more.


	18. How the Trickster Stole the Moon

"Jack, you 'member how I told you granmama came from back east?"

Jack nodded, pulling the quilt up over his cold nose, happy because he knew that every mention of his

granmama meant his mother was about to tell a story. Her stories were the only assurance Jack had

that a place existed beyond this place. He settled his head back, preparing for a story.

"Well, she heard this story from a Indian woman back east when she was a little girl. Do you want to

hear it?"

Jack nodded, his runny nose brushing his mother's hand-made quilt.

"Well it goes like this. There was this man, an' he was a crotchety old fool, and he had a beeeautiful

daughter. But he liked to keep his things to himself. One day a raven fell in love with the beautiful

daughter."

"Mama, will I fall in love one day?" His voice sounded small.

"I'm sure you will, Jackie, now let me finish my story."

"Yes, ma'am."

Ennis was smoking on the front step.

Jack sat down beside him but not too close. "So, you gonna tell me the fuck's your problem, or do I

have to guess?"

Ennis exhaled a string of gray smoke. "Don't got no problem."

"Yeah, sure." Jack felt his anger rising. He didn't want to blow the lid off his temper. He knew on some

level Ennis's stay here was always on the verge of being temporary, and he didn't want to be the one to

upset that boat. He doubted he could ever forgive himself if he did. But the truth was that what they

were doing right now was not what Jack had signed on for. They'd had that kiss in the kitchen, one

tumble in the bed the day after that, and then Ennis hadn't laid so much as one lustful eye on Jack in

weeks. Jack knew something'd gone horribly wrong for Ennis that night of the fire. He knew Ennis had

been sleeping on the couch, and he'd watched his whiskey drain away day after day until Ennis

announced he had to go into town to look at some new feed and a new bottle of whiskey's what arrived.

Dale went the next day to pick up the same old feed.

Jack didn't know what to think. Maybe Ennis thought Jack was too much of an idiot to notice. Jack felt

a pang of sympathy for Alma, who'd no doubt lived this same life of secret-filled-silences and cold

glances. Maybe Ennis del Mar simply didn't know how to share himself, not even with Jack.

"Well the raven didn't know how he could see the daughter as long as that old man was protecting her.

So he turned himself white as snow, gussied himself up, you see?"

Little Jack nodded, big blue eyes fixed on his mother's animated face. She was only animated when she

told stories, and when she tried to weave those same stories into colorful quilts. She was a beat down

woman the rest of the time, but when her mind was off in her mama's stories, she transformed.

"So he turned himself white as a dove, and the old man let him come into the house to see his daughter.

But when he was in there, the raven saw that the old man had other things. He had the sun, and the

moon, and all the stars, and even fresh water, hanging up on his wall to decorate his house. So even

though the raven loved the girl best of all, he didn't think it was right to keep those things from the

world, and he stole them away."

"Isn't stealing wrong?"

"Yes, son, it is. And he stole from someone who invited him into his home. That's wrong too. But do you

understand why he did it?"

"Cause... cause..." Jack thought for a few moments before he shook his head.

"Because everyone else had never seen the moon. If you got something worth sharing, it ain't right to

keep it to yourself."

"Well, you play this little game much as you want," Jack answered Ennis's silence. "Gerry invited me

out tonight to shoot some pool. Think I'll go. I could use some good comp'ny." Without waiting for a

reply, Jack walked off towards the horse barn to see to the afternoon feeding. He was finally walking

without a limp. The cast had come off just one week ago now, just in time for the coldest part of winter.

"The problem was, the raven had to leave his love behind to steal them things. And once he did, they're

hard to carry. You think you could carry the sun?"

Jack shook his head.

"No, and neither could he. He dropped the moon into the sky, and everyone was happy. He put the

stars everywhere, and everyone was happy about that too. He dropped the clear water and it made all

the streams and rivers of the Earth, and the people liked him 'cause of that. But carryin' the sun around

in his beak..."

Jack laughed his ass off when Tom sunk the cue ball for the forth time tonight. Difference was, all he

had left was the eight ball, so it would be the last time this game Tom got to scratch. Jack'd had more

than enough alcohol to find that fucking hilarious. "Shit, Tom, you couldn't sink the right ball if I paid

you."

"Fuck you, I got plenty a them in."

"Yeah only 'cause I set them up for you, you asshole."

"Not my problem if you don't know how to not give me shots." Tom's eyes were warm with laughter, his big belly shaking with chuckles, his plaid shirt coming untucked at the belt.

"Shit, Gerr... Gerr... where the hell did Gerry go?"

"Went to the bar for refills I guess." Tom smacked his cue stick down on the table. "How 'bout another

game, but this time we test your little hy-poth-eeee-sis?"

"What the hell you talkin' 'bout?"

"You said I couldn't hit the right ball if you paid me. Whatta you say we make this a man's game and

put money on it."

"Hell yes! I got... I got three hun'erd... After I buy everyone a round! I fuckin' love this place. You all

just 'bout made my fuckin' year. Gerry! Gerry! Can ya order a round a beer for the guys?," Jack called

over the bar din. It was a Tuesday night and the bar only had about fifteen guys in it, but most were

friends of Tom's or Gerry's, and several had taken an interest in the pool game. Jack hadn't had this

much fun in as long as he could remember.

Gerry and a thin waitress with long, dark hair and a pointed nose brought over some trays of glasses

and pitchers of whatever was the favored draught. A round of guzzling and backslapping later, and

Tom and Jack were showing off across the field of felt green.

"...but carryin' the sun around in his beak, the bird didn't count on how hot it was. The cinders from the

sun coated him in black and burnt him."

Jack watched with wide eyes. "So... so it was bad he stole the stuff?"

"Jack, sometimes there ain't a right or wrong. People just gotta do like they gotta do. He wouldn't a felt

right lettin' it stay in the old man's house, but maybe what happened was more painful to him in the

long run."

This didn't make sense to a child who had heard the Bible read from these same lips since he was little,

so he didn't say anything.

"But sometimes people do things with the best intentions and end up bein' burnt."

Jack lay groaning. There was something hard and wooden against his back.

"Shit, Ger, ain't he your boss?"

"Yeah..."

"He looks pretty fucked up. How much he drink?"

"Lot I guess."

"His missus gonna whoop his ass," Tom laughed.

"Yeah he sure is."

"He? You mean this boy here's...?"

"Yup."

"Well he didn't seem like it."

"They're nice folks. You didn't hear 'bout the fire down our way?"

"'Course I heard about it. Just didn't know why... oh, you mean it was 'cause-"

"Yeah. Tell you what, Ennis find out I got Jack like this, I'm afraid I'll be fired."

"Thought you said they were nice folks?"

"Well, I guess nice really only applies to Mr. Twist here. Ennis got a mean streak on 'im. He ain't soft

on the hands."

"Huh. Traded one John Twist for another just the same?"

"He ain't that bad, but he's mighty protective of Jack, an' he ain't gonna take kindly to this."

"Well... tell you what, I'll take care a him tonight. You go on home get up tomorra like nothin'

happened. I'll bring him on by. He cain't fire me."

"Guess not. Thank, Tom. I owe you one."

Jack felt himself being man-handled, barely conscious enough to notice with the one part of his brain

that was still awake. He heard a vehicle start, and it took him a minute to realize he was in it. He must

have passed out, though, because the next thing he remembered was waking up with something warm

and hard and startlingly familiar filling his mouth.

Recognition bolted Jack towards consciousness. His hands clamored to pull away, not sure what was

going on as the hard dick pushed past his lips. He had no idea who this was, but by the unfamiliar

growls, he knew well who it wasn't. He felt like he was underwater pushing towards the surface,

wondering what he should do. Should he bite? Should he fight? What if the man had a weapon? How

drunk was Jack and would he able to fight back? It was an agonizing hour of indecisions that lasted

mere moments in real time before Jack dragged his teeth up the quivering dick. Tom pulled away with

a yelp.

Tom. Holy fuck. Jack had a moment of doubts. Had he wanted this? Had he asked for it? Had he led

Tom on? His mind raced back over the evening in the millisecond it took for Tom to slam Jack back

into the truck seat.

"What the fuck, you awake?"

Jack's eyes blazed back at Tom's. He didn't have a clue what to say, and even his anger was slow to

awake, his entire body seemingly disconnected from his brain, his brain that was shouting, "Punch the

fucker! Give him one across the nose! Come on, Jack!"

"Come on, Jack. You know you want it."

And before Jack could protest, a pen knife was being held against his throat. Images flashed in his head

of a deer in truck headlights, staring with big, dark eyes as its death came barreling towards it. He felt

on fire all over. He roused himself a enough to swear, to curse and growl, a "get the fuck- get the

fuck- what do you- no fuckin' way- you-" before Tom flipped him and sank in with a gleeful grunt.

Jack had had more than a couple men inside of him, but always 'cause that's just where he'd wanted

them. This- this was worse than being hit by a truck. He felt like he'd been hit be a goddamned train.

The pain was so bad, but he could only stare and watch his lifeless body on the tracks. The pain faded

until it was being felt by someone else, someone who looked like him. He couldn't feel anything. He

could see, but it was like watching a movie- a bad movie playing in painfully slow motion while

everything shattered. For the moment, though, it was someone else's everything, and this was all a bad

dream. He knew he would wake up and find himself up to his nose in his mama's quilt.

He must have passed out again, because the next thing he felt was the cold dirt hitting him as he was

tossed on the ground. Somewhere a streetlight alerted him to the fact that he was in town.

Jack sat up and leaned against the side of the building he was next to. It was the very bar where he'd

met Tom and played pool with Tom and slapped Tom on the back. The tremors started in his knees,

and like the fire he'd seen engulf his house, spread all over his body as he shook like a newborn pup. It

was only then that he knew for sure that the thing that'd shattered had been him.

"So the raven, burnt by the very thing he'd tried to steal, dropped it to the rocks. And that's how come

when you hit rocks together, fire comes out as sparks. And that's also why the raven, who was once

pure white, is now the blackest of all the birds."


	19. Paths Into the Underworld

It was daylight when Jack came to his senses. Still trapped in a horror film he couldn't escape, it came

down to not knowing what else to do. Pausing for some deep breaths, and trying with all his might not

to feel the discomfort each step imparted somewhere inside, he set his feet toward home. One step in

front of the other. Two miles. Step, step, step. He didn't let himself think of anything else, just step,

step, step, two miles. The cold soaked through his clothes and numbed the outsides of his legs, but he

would rather die of cold on his journey than be found next to the bar.

The house loomed like a foreign land, maybe a fabled one he wouldn't be able to enter because he was

somehow in a different dimension. He opened the door slowly and nervously. Ennis was sitting at the

kitchen table looking haggard. Upon seeing Jack, he jumped up.

"Jack! Where you-"

Jack was mildly surprised that Ennis even recognized his white bird flown home black. Jack's ma

turned from the kitchen where she was making something, but even while Ennis was coming towards

him, Jack met his mama's eye.

"Oh my," she gasped. Jack wasn't surprised. Jack had a repertoire of shattered looks she was familiar

with from his childhood. Ennis, by comparison, had seen few, despite all those years of turning Jack

away. Jack had some dark lands inside that Ennis had never sent him towards.

Jack stepped away as Ennis came close, suddenly afraid of touch, of being held, of being restrained or

confined or even of having his existence acknowledged. Without a word, and ashamed of the avoidance

he could not control, Jack pounded up the stairs and collapsed onto his bed, slamming the door behind

him.

Ennis came up, but only stood in the room for a while, pacing a little. To his credit he didn't say

anything. Jack's ma brought him lunch but he didn't even turn toward her gentle voice. "Alright then,

I'll leave it here by the bed case you change your mind."

Jack was trying not to think of it, but it played over and over in his head. He searched his every action

and his every word for something he could have done differently. He didn't fight. Why didn't he fight?

The thought of Tom disgusted him, and when he finally did get the energy to get out of bed, he

showered until his skin was red and raw, just standing under the water. After the water turned cold he

just kept standing there. The pain felt good all over. It was a distraction.

Ennis was back at night and laid down in the bed next to Jack. One problem had solved itself, at least.

They both stayed awake, neither acknowledging or touching the other, through the long, dark night.

Jack's eyes moved to watch his own private horror film. Ennis jumped at every whistle of the wind.

What a pair, Jack thought.

Jack knew when Ennis got up the next day that he should too, but he was so cold and sore. He stayed in

bed, eventually getting up to piss and grab a couple pieces of cake from the kitchen before returning to

bed. He felt sluggish and sick. He slept off and on all day.

But at night the movie started up again and he kept awake. He thought about a lot of things, about how

embarrassed he was, about how he should have fought back, about what Ennis and his ma were

thinking. Sometimes he would think about better thoughts, about Ennis's girls who'd been so happy to

meet him. That made him smile so he could go on for another five minutes.

The next day Ennis asked him if he was still sick. It was a convenient excuse so he mumbled something

to the effect of yes. His ma brought him lunch, and today he ate it after she left the room.

That night and the next day were exactly the same, though Jack made some conscious effort not to let

that movie repeat, instead trying to think of other things, Bobby's first words, the summer on the

mountain, his first winning ride. Sometimes, though, the happy thoughts just made him feel worse.

It was the night after that, the third night Ennis and Jack lay silent and awake and jumpy in the bed next

to each other, that Jack finally found his voice. He didn't know or give a damn what Ennis had thought

was going on up to this point. Both of them knew he wasn't sick. When Jack started talking it was like

telling someone else's story. It was the story of someone he didn't care about, someone he didn't know.

He wasn't even talking to Ennis, just to the air, to a God he didn't believe in, to the stars themselves if

they would listen. The story was inside of him and wanted out. And so, in the deep dark of the

Wyoming winter night, Jack led Ennis carefully down the crooked path to the underworld.

"I'm not sure why I didn't fight." It was the thought that plagued his mind, and the first words that came to his mouth. "I could a... He's a big fellow, but..."

Jack heard Ennis stop breathing, waiting to see what was coming.

"You gotta understand I never would a wanted it. I got... real drunk. Gerr didn't want you to fire him so

he let Tom- Tom Tait?- take me home, was goin' a bring me back here tomorrow I guess. 'Least I

'member something like that. I was really skunked out a my mind." Jack laughed a bitter laugh.

"Christ, Tom sucks at pool, and we were playin' for shots. Whenever I won he would buy me some..."

The connection had fallen into place days ago for Jack, though he hadn't voiced until now, even to

himself.

"'Course when we played for money he beat my ass." Another cynical chuckle left Jack's lips, and the

sound was terrifying.

"What happened?" Ennis sounded dangerous, his voice clogged and clipped, trying not to betray

emotion. He was biding his time, and Jack knew what would happen later.

"Drove me out somewhere. Pulled out... pulled out a little knife. I don't know.. it wasn't that big. I

could a fought. Shit I was so drunk, Ennis. I was so damned drunk, an' I thought... I thought maybe I...

But it isn't true. I didn't, swear to God, I didn't want this to-"

"Ssh," Ennis shushed him, but the sound was angry. "Don't you talk like that. I know it. I-"

"Ennis, I'm so sorry. I-"

"Shut up. You know I... you know-" But it was as far as Ennis got before his voice choked up entirely.

His breath came in ragged bouts and then stopped entirely. When it escaped again it was as a sob, clear

as day.

"Oh shit, Ennis, I'm so sorry. We'll be ok. We'll figure somethin' out. I'll figure somethin' out." Jack

was wrapping his arms around Ennis, afraid of the realization that he didn't even believe his own

words, didn't see how anything could be ok. But Ennis wasn't hearing Jack anyway. Ennis buried his

head between Jack's shoulder and neck and cried like a child with wild abandon, sobs coming loudly,

howling noises escaping between.

Ruth lay awake, listening to the muffled voices. She couldn't hear what they were saying, and she was

secretly grateful, but there was no mistaking the animalistic noises that followed.

She buried her head in her pillow and cried silent tears between frenzied prayers. Whatever had

happened, she somehow knew no one could save them from this Hell save the Lord Almighty himself.


	20. The False Men

When Jack woke up, he was not at all surprised to feel the bed was empty. Angry, maybe, but not

surprised. As heavy as his bones felt, he knew there was a ranch to run, and he knew that wherever Ennis was, that wasn't what he was doing. Some part of Jack that used to care about people tried to

muster up some sense of urgency, the need to save the life of a guilty man. It failed. He had just enough

energy to pull on dirty clothes. His mama made him eggs and he even kissed her on the cheek before

heading out to the barn for the day. It could be he'd be on his own from now on, Ennis in jail or worse.

Figured Ennis wouldn't think about the consequences of his actions. Need to demonstrate his self-

sufficiency, rage at Ennis's selfishness, and anger at himself for needing any kind of rescue all pressed

into him and kept his limbs moving. He wouldn't have cared if it was just himself, but had his mother

to worry about.

Jack was smoking nervously in the late afternoon sun, gazing at the longhorn, who gazed back without

emotion, when he heard the car drive up. Jack saw who it was, but had known who it would be anyway.

The sheriff plodded through the too-high grass out to the bull pen. Jack just watched the longhorn,

waiting, prepared for the worst.

When he got there, the sheriff leaned on the rail in a mirror image of Jack. "That's a damn fine animal."

"Cost about a fortune, too."

The sheriff nodded. They stood in silence for a while. Sheriff Alan Reisetter was Jack's age. They'd

gone to high school together, slept with the same girls, failed the same classes.

"We got 'im down at the sheriff's office." Jack peered over at the Alan as a man would glare at a mortal

enemy, but Alan continued talking. "Look, I... I figured out what happened, Jack. Heard 'bout the fire,

an'... well." Alan's eyes scanned the horizon. "I known you a long time. Town is going to even worse

shit than you remember, reckon, but it ain't hell yet, all evidence to the contrary. Ennis told me what

happened. Not with his mouth, maybe, but he told me..." Jack just watched Alan's lips move, frozen in

anticipation of what they might say next. "Folks like that Tom, well, they're the reason this place...

Anyway, Tom put up a pretty good fight. Had to take Ennis to see the doc, got a couple stitches from a

knife cut." Alan met Jack's eyes then. "I'm prepared to call it self defense if you are."

A lie. Alan was proposing they lie about what had happened happened. Jack saw that the black and

white rules of his mama's Bible held no truth in this world. The man's lie sounded too sweet for Jack to

do anything but agree.

Jack watched Alan for a moment before nodding abruptly, secretly relieved for this one small break.

There was something in Alan's eyes that made Jack mad, and he flinched away from the Alan's pity-

gaze.

"We ain't all bad, Jack." Alan's voice sounded wistful. He patted Jack on the back and Jack let him.

"Ain't all bad. You ain't in this alone, anyways." Alan sighed and turned to leave. When he was about

thirty feet away he called back over his shoulder, "Jus' come pick 'im up when you have time. We'll

treat 'im alright."

Jack stomped his cigarette under the heel of his boot, wearing it down before flames could erupt in the

cold, dry grass. Today smelled like snow. Ravens were gathering in the long grass of the pasture, eating

their last seed before the oncoming white. It was well after dinner before Jack got in the truck and

headed to town.


	21. Bones, Powder, and Blood

We're all made a the same thing. Even, well, men like me n' Jack. Seems like at the end a the day we're

all the same. Didn't think that would be true for Tom though.

I thought, man like him be made out a somethin' evil. When I was a kid my mother tol' me witchcraft

was the evilest thing, so when I pulled up behind his trailer, I imagined he was black magic, come into

my world like that damned wolf the night a the fire, just to threaten somethin' that was good as mine,

and then s'posed to die down by the road like that wolf done.

Only Tom lived, an' I imagined maybe- Well mostly as I walked up ta Tom's place there were lot a

things I was tryin' hard not ta imagine. Didn't do a very good job, though. As soon as I saw his face, I

knew his dick been in my place and it turned out I didn't have ta tell myself nothin' ta do the deed. Just

did it. Like 'bout the way you might shoot an animal needs puttin' down. Best to get it over with quick.

Tom fought back alright, but he didn't stand no chance 'cause in that moment think maybe I was the

wolf. It didn't hurt me none at all to take the queer ol' Tom and throw him 'gainst his own truck, where I

guess he- Once I got him mostly unconscious, tongue-rollin', that stage... Well I can't remember

anything after that other than my surprise to see that, when I tried to grind him down, mill him to

powder an' take him out of the world, after his bones broke, it was blood, blood just like mine, that

flowed on out a him.

His blood was red, too. Like mine. Like Jack's. Like my dad's. Like Earl's.

I 'member that night up on the mountain after I took Jack so hard I made him bleed, I wondered for a

whole day if maybe I had- But I didn't. No, this man Tom here did, an' now no one had ta worry 'bout

him no more.

His neighbors were terrified, called the sheriff. Seemed Tom gave me a cut or somethin', though I

guess I don't remember that too well. Sheriff took me to see the doctor, asked after Jack. Seemed the

two were friends in high school or somethin', in their sophomore years. I hadn't made a friend in high

school, but maybe that was 'cause I hadn't made it to sophomore. That kinda distinction earns a man

rich wives, friends with power, an' three hun'erd thousand dollars.

I was tired so they let me sleep down at the sheriff's office. Thought for sure they were gonna arrest

me, an' I thought maybe that was the best way ta go. I done to a man not much better'n my dad did ta ol'

Earl. Only maybe Earl didn't deserve it. Least that's what I kept tellin' myself. Seemed like the whites

an' blacks of my mama's Bible had flown right out a my head an' I couldn't tell if what I done was right

or wrong.

Not 'til Jack picked me up, sheriff said howdy and goodbye, an' I went home to leftover stew. Guess

there wouldn't be no homemade leftover stew in a world where I was a murderer.

But I don't think I ever will forget until the day I die the feel of that man's skull crackin'. I guess Jack

got some things he can't forget neither. Maybe this way we can be haunted men together. 'Least 'til our

blood runs cold an' we ourselves turn to bone and powder.


	22. A Ribbon Around Her Throat

It'd been a long, hard winter, but it was nearly spring now, the snow turnin' inta slush to mix with mud,

white an' black makin' brown. The horses all had thrush, the days were finally getting' longer, an' Jack

was finally seemin' ta show interest in things, havin' less trouble gettin' out of bed... 'cept when Ennis

was in it, then Jack seemed to have plenty a trouble. Ennis still remembered those wintry months when

just touchin' Jack would sometimes make him flinch, or maybe freeze up, but time had passed an' now

they were almost back to their old ways in bed, 'cept Jack had always been partial to a more animal-like

way, from behind an' all. Now he mostly wanted to be able ta look in Ennis's face. Ennis could

understand that.

But Jack wasn't quite like he used to be. It was subtle. Maybe somethin' other people would'nt've

noticed. But Ennis did. Jack's temper was shorter. He stuck 'round Ennis more at night. He didn't like

people to come up behind him without sayin' so or he would jump, then get all pissy. Ennis did what he

had to ta keep Jack happy. It was good Jack was bein' careful. Ennis could understand that. He missed

his innocent bird, but sometimes he thought 'bout that pen knife he knew the sharpness of with his own

flesh, an' thought that, as much as it bothered Jack, might be better that Jack didn't fight.

But from the moment Francie announced that she was gonna drive up an' visit, Jack had been almost

back to his old self. Jack's ma was bubblin' with excitement ta get ta meet the girl she talked to over the

phone. Mrs. Twist was cleanin' the house within' an inch of its life.

Jack, on the other hand, kept tryin' a suggest things Francie could do, but in the end kept admittin' that,

havin' been a teenager in Lightning Flat himself, there really was'nt nothin'.

Ennis was more concerned with sleepin' arrangements. An' another detail. It weren't just Francie

comin'. She said her boyfriend was gonna drive her. The boyfriend was news ta Ennis. With one

daughter married, losin' the other to adulthood didn't please him too much. His name was Scott- Scott

MacDonald. It sounded ethnic to Ennis, an' he wrinkled his nose, seein' some drunkard's Irish son or

somethin'. He thought it was best if Jack slept on the floor in his mama's room and Francie took their

nice, big bed. Ennis could take the couch, an' this Scott could sleep on the floor in the livin' room where

Ennis could keep an eye on 'im.

When the day finally came, Jack heard the truck first. He called upstairs to Ennis, who was washin' up,

an' they both stood outside on the front stoop watchin' a red Dodge truck pull up inta the yard.

The boy got out first: tall, lanky, with red-brown hair on his head. His pale skin an' freckles made sun-

darkened Ennis look Mexican.

Scott scampered around to the passenger side an' opened the door.

Francie was a year older, had her hair all up on her head like them movie stars, an' had a bright red

scarf tied 'round her neck. She threw her arm up into the air to wave at them.

Ennis turned to look at Jack, who was wearin' the biggest smile Ennis had seen since fall.


	23. Three Drops of Blood

The week flew by, a jumble of bodies, food, and commotion, all awash in Francie's girlish giggles. At

least something was still girlish about her, as much as she seemed to be getting older.

The one thing that had ruined the week so far for Ennis was Scott. He was a nice kid, but Ennis hated

him. Ennis couldn't figure out why Scott wasn't right for his little girl. And yet, he could feel it in his

bones.

But that changed one night when Ruth and Francie were making dinner, Ennis watching over bottle of

beer. Chopping carrots into perfect orange circles, Francie slipped and cut her finger with a knife.

Ennis watched as three red drops of blood slid off the silver blade and onto the counter.

But before Ennis could make the leap across the kitchen, Scott was there, pulling out a kerchief,

wrapping Francie's hand.

Ennis saw then that maybe his little girl didn't need a daddy any more. Maybe Scott was what she

needed, in that way that Ennis needed Jack above all else.


	24. The Clever Son

"Pete Stone's havin' a garage sale."

"Yeah?" Ennis clearly wasn't the least bit interested in what Pete Stone was up to, Ruth could tell from

his dull response. The disinterest didn't stop Jack, though. Never had.

"Yeah. I, uh, overheard somethin' 'bout him."

Ennis's eyes flicked to Ruth, knitting in her rocker in the corner. Jack had that 'big idea' sound in his

voice. Ruth braced herself for whatever clever idea Jack had in mind. Jack had said to Ennis earlier that

he didn't like keeping secrets from Scott, that it wasn't fair to keep him alone out of the loop like that.

Ennis had declared that he didn't want to tell Scott, especially after he'd taken a slow liking to the boy.

Didn't want to scare the boy away. He seemed to take care of Francie. That was when Jack announced

that he thought he had a plan to test Scott's opinions of such things. Reluctantly, Ennis had agreed to let

Jack plow ahead. The stoic cowboy's fatal flaw, Ruth decided, eavesdropped casually from her rocking

chair as usual, was that he trusted Jack too much. If you gave Jack enough rope, he'd hang himself.

Still, Ennis hadn't asked about the details of this plan, and it wasn't her place to interfere in their

business.

Francine and Scott, sitting quietly on the couch, were oblivious. Francine was painting her nails. Scott

was staring at the carpet between his knees.

"You wanna know what I heard?" Jack asked, all puppy dog eyes.

Ennis ignored him.

"Well," Jack continued, "Someone said Pete's queer. His wife left him last month? They said that's why."

Ennis turned red at the- most likely fake- rumor.

"Can't say as I care," Ennis muttered. Francine looked up at him, wide-eyed.

Ruth felt her mouth tighten. Jack was always up to some trick, but she especially did not approve of

this one- Jack making up stories about their neighbors for his own games. She wouldn't say anything,

though. She'd never got in the way of Jack's games, and she wasn't about to start now.

Jack seemed to be watching Ennis expectantly. It was Francine's and Scott's last day here, so it had

been now or never in Jacks' mind, no doubt.

"Well? What do you say about that?" Jack kept on Ennis.

"Didn't say nothin'."

"You think that's decent? Men... together?"

Ennis turned redder, leaning back into the shadows cast across the room by the setting sun. The color

rose to Ruth's cheeks as she watched it rise in Francine's. This wasn't proper conversation for a young

girl. Still, Francine seemed to have some tact. She seemed to sense something she didn't understand

was going on, and she kept her mouth shut.

Scott fidgeted. He ducked his head further down, as if to escape notice altogether.

"Ain't that sick?" Jack had turned to ask Scott directly this time. "Two men?"

Scott blinked at Jack, wide-eyed. "Um... "

"Ain't that what got them cities burned in the Bible? That's so, right mama?"

Ruth nodded quietly towards the floor. Because it was true. She loved Jack dearly but she had to reckon

the cities he mocked were a fore bringer of his own fate.

"What d'you think about queers, Ennis?" Jack asked.

Francine's eyes were wide, but her mouth twisted with something that may have been the beginnings of

a laugh.

"I, uh," Ennis scuffed his foot against the floor, glancing up just quickly enough to see that people were

looking at him before he went back to pretending he wasn't there.

"Scott?" Jack pushed. "You ain't exactly bein' outspoken here."

Scott seemed to break then. He kept his eyes on the floor as he answered. "I, uh... I haven't given it

much thought. I don't rightly care what other people are doin', but I just as soon not talk about it. Mr.

Twist sir."

Jack's face split into a grin. "You hear that Ennis?"

"Yeah, I heard, an' I agree," Ennis bit out the response. He stood suddenly and crossed the room on

long, caliper legs. Ruth could hear him rummaging in the kitchen.

"Jack?" Francine's big eyes were starin' at Jack in utter confusion.

"Oh. Uh." Jack was stalling. Ruth could tell Jack hadn't thought this through. "Guess I..."

"It ain't right to gossip about neighbors." Ruth's voice was hushed in the awkward room. She could tell

Jack had planned on revealing more tonight, but he'd worked himself into a corner. Francine was

playing along, for now anyway. They sat in silence until Francine broke it with some pleasantries about

how nice the ranch was, and how nice it was to visit.

Ennis stomped back into the room then, carrying a tray laden with the peanut butter cookies Ruth had

baked earlier, some lemonade in a pitcher, and a few glasses. The clank of ice on glass was a welcome

sound as Ennis set the whole tray down and started pouring. He handed out the lemonade and passed

the cookies. Ruth thanked him.

Silence fell in the room again. Everyone started when Ennis broke it. "Sorry about that. The, uh, rumor

thing. Don't think that's true about Pete. Jack... Jack, here thought it was the best way to tell you,

Scott... it's true 'bout us. We're queer, I mean. Me an' him."

Everyone froze. No one was sure what the proper response to this situation was.

"It, uh. Jack gets ideas sometimes." Ennis swallowed hard, seeming to shrink under a roomful of stares.

"Ma'am, I sure would like another cookie. Could you pass me that plate there."

"Sure." Ruth passed the cookies. All eyes, though, stayed riveted to Ennis.

Halfway through the cookie, Ennis noticed all the eyes again. "Whut?"

"Nothin'." Jack was quick to answer.

But a moment later Francine's small voice boomed in the silence. "Thank you, daddy."

Ennis nodded and swallowed more cookie before the conversation slowly steered to the coming

summer in the able hands of Jack.

It was Jack who thought he was clever, and he was in some ways. But Ruth had seen today that she had

a second clever son, too.


	25. A Measure of Beauty

It was mid-morning on a blustery early-spring day. Jack's ma had already made her goodbyes to the

couple, asking them to come back soon. Jack and Ennis remained, standing in the gravel driveway.

Ennis hugged Fran close and hard. He shook Scott's hand and mumbled something none of them could

make out. Scott nodded like he had heard, though.

Jack shook Scott's hand and clapped his shoulder. "Sorry 'bout.. last night. I, uh... I guess you don't

need to approve, I just wanted to make sure you weren't gonna be hateful."

"Don't worry about it, sir."

"That's a lie," Francine interrupted, drawing herself up to her full height.

"Huh?" All three men in unison turned the question on her.

"If he wants to continue dating me, he does need to approve." She didn't meet anyone's eyes.

"I, uh..." Scott started. But Fran didn't let him finish.

"I always knew daddy's friend made him happy. Happier than anything else. But this..." She squinted

up at the house, and smiled. "This is just beautiful, just like heaven."

"Well, you don't gotta lie. It needs a new coat of paint..." Jack had to admit he was trying to break the

somber mood. It made him uncomfortable somehow.

"I wasn't talking about the house." Fran met Jack's eyes. "Anyway," she sighed, "I'm gonna have ta

drag Junior up next time. She and Kurt'll love it. Maybe some of my friends, too. Like the cheerleading

squad. We could bring some life to this town." She giggled.

Jack nodded. "Any time."

"Thanks, Jack." Without hardly any warning, she threw her thin arms around him. He held her close,

felt her fragile warmth that was part Ennis, the part he'd never asked for, but suddenly found he wanted.

"Jack... could ya..." She was trying to pull away. How long had they been hugging, anyway?

"Oh, sorry." He felt sheepish. "I never had a-" He stopped himself short, realizing his mouth was

ahead of his brain, and it was a foolish thing to say.

"A what?," she asked.

"Nothin'..."

But she was studying him closely. Everyone was.

"I was gonna say daughter, but that ain't fair, you already got 'nough parents."

"I do got a lot of them," Fran laughed. "But between us here, you're a better stepdaddy than Monroe.

He liked to boss us around a lot. He ain't as bad with me as he is with Junior, but, like, he would take

away our TV and..."

Fran's talking was covering up the tears welling up in Jack's eyes as he looked at the muddy gravel. He

wasn't going to cry. He had more control than that. But he felt like he just couldn't express how much it

meant to him to hear her say the things she was sayin'. She was a good kid.

Eventually Ennis interjected and got Fran shushed up, got Scott and Fran loaded up, Jack lending a

hand distractedly. Ennis and Jack stood side-by-side in the driveway watching the truck pull away. Jack

raised a hand in a steady wave, while Ennis just stood there watching.

When there was no one left but the two of them and the spring wind, Jack spoke. "I can see how it

might a been hard to leave your girls all them years. Fran is just... she's a angel."

"Yup, she is," Ennis agreed.

"A real beautiful girl, too."

Ennis chuckled. "That ain't somethin' a celebrate when you're her father, worrin' about her."

Jack laughed back.

"Truth, Jack?" Ennis was looking at him sternly now.

Jack nodded back at Ennis, steeling himself.

"I... I was afraid a losin' my girls all them years, but... well, don't think I ever been closer to them than I

am now, livin' a day's drive away." Ennis shook his head.

"Guess that's just luck, then," Jack shook his head, eying the house, already thinking about needing to

paint it.

"Ain't luck," Ennis said. "It's you. It's this place. Francie's right. Somethin' beautiful."

Jack looked back at Ennis. Their eyes met for a second, thoughts passing between them that even

touches couldn't convey, and spoken words never would.

"Alright, cowboy, we got a ranch to run." Jack started towards the door.

"Yeah, an' we gotta build a extension or something'."

"Why's that?"

"Cause once Francie gets an idea in her head, she does it. And I ain't sleeping in the living room with

the entire cheerleadin' squad."


	26. Things Made of Glass

"You know why he's comin', don't you?"

Ennis sat back in the creaking chair. "Reckon so." There was only one reason Ennis could think of that

would compel Scott to drive eight hours across Wyoming alone to meet with Ennis for a few minutes,

only to turn around and drive back. Jack'd put his foot down there, said Scott was going to stay the

night if he had to steal Scott's radiator cap 'cause he'd driven the distance enough to know it wasn't safe

for an inexperienced driver. To Jack, anyone that'd booked less road time than him was 'inexperienced.'

Ennis didn't know if Scott was sweet and old fashioned, or crazy as a loon. Kurt'd never bothered

asking his permission, and Ennis didn't bear no hard feelings. Junior had a step-dad. Maybe Kurt'd

asked him.

"I... I wanted to offer this. Doubt they'll find much use for it..." Ruth shrugged and dropped a little

velvet sack on the table. She drew the strings and reached inside, drawing out a gold ring with a clear

stone.

"This is the ring my grand-daddy proposed to my grand-mama with. It's... it's not diamond now, just

glass." She passed it to Ennis.

It felt tiny and precious in his large, calloused hands. He had a sudden fear of dropping and losing it, so

he set it back on the table, poking it with a finger.

"My daddy passed on when I was a little," Ruth continued, "so my mama gave it to Jack's daddy, and

he proposed to me with it." A wistful smile flickered onto her face, and then off again just as quickly.

"I was planning for Jack to use it to propose to his wife. But I guess I..." her eyes flicked up at Ennis

and then back down again "I was surprised when he actually got married. I figured he wasn't the kind."

She shook her head. "But he had money but the time I come to terms with him having a wife. She

wouldn't want no..." Ruth didn't finish.

"Ma'am, I'd be proud to offer Scott this ring."

"You tell him now it's only just made of glass, no diamonds or nothin'. In case he wants to buy her a

proper ring."

Ennis nodded that he would, but he was thinking that he didn't know of anything more proper than to

get the Twist ring onto a del Mar finger.


	27. Thieves and Liars

I met him on the mountain.

There, I stole his life.

So many years, he and I-

We walked divided.

Stealing what time we could

Between fits of conscience,

Between fixed constellations.

So many thoughts,

Bright happy ones,

Turned away from mind.

I walked my days under cloudy skies.

I knew my body was not here.

It lay, poison spilled mercury in a lupine field.

Still.

I had been taken,

Hidden, stored up.

Can't believe I left it there,

Up there to bear the ravages of weather.

But I saw that he had taken it,

Stolen it,

Lied to me about it,

Kept it,

Honored it,

Loved it-

So many years, he and I-

We walked false paths.

Lying about the time we had

Between fits of conscience,

Between fixed constellations.

Now time itself belongs to us.

The stars pour out white light, and

He is mine.

My thief, my liar,

My shortest day and hottest sun.

My burning, sightless, needful thing.

At last he's mine forever.


	28. Wild Children

Ennis saw Jack walking across the field. He turned to put the tack away, and when he looked back,

Jack had disappeared, impossibly so in the waist-high hay. Only one place he could have gone.

He didn't know why he did it. He had a lot of work to do. But he was drawn into the field, swimming

across the sea of golden seed in search of his sunken treasure.

He found Jack near where he'd saw him last, floating on his back in the dirt, hands clasped behind his

head.

"What're you doin' out here, huh?" Ennis asked.

"Jus'... watchin' the sky."

Ennis saw his entrance. "Anything interesting up there in heaven?"

Jack's eyes flicked to his, a small smile winking up at Ennis from under his mustache. Jack's answer

was heard almost before it was spoken. "Just sending up a prayer of thanks."

Their gazes caught for a moment before Jack thumped the dirt with his hand, the crushed hay next to

him cracking. Ennis thought briefly of the work he had to do. He glanced around to see the emptiness

of the Western plains, land that offered no prying eyes, land that didn't judge because it was as good as

his own. It was all the excuse he needed to sit in the tall grass with Jack. Jack pulled on Ennis's torso,

guiding him, until Ennis's head rested on Jack's stomach. The rise and fall of Jack's chest seemed to

match a cadence in the wind itself, and Ennis imagined maybe this was what the ocean felt like. He

hadn't hid in the tall grass since he was a child, and even then it'd been to escape KE's beatings, not this

careless, happy thing.

"You still got that harmonica?," Ennis asked.

"Guess so. Couldn't tell you where, though." Jack chuckled.

"Christ, we was so young... barely children."

"Yeah..." Some breaths passed, Ennis rising and falling with Jack, before Jack continued. "But you

know... some days I feel younger'n I ever did. That make any sense?"

Ennis made a noise in his throat. It was all he trusted himself with. But what Jack said sure made sense

to him. He woke up every day, wanting to labor, wanting to toil for his and Jack's affairs. His steps

were lighter. His smiles were more prolific. In Ennis's mind had hadn't ever been this happy, not even

when he was a little kid.

And now here he was, swimming in a wheat field beneath the heaven-sky, his own wild child under his

head. The world was theirs and they were the world's. There weren't no reins on this one.


End file.
